A Spark in the Dark
by Luineturiel
Summary: Blind girl gets to meet Legolas. This is quite a dark piece of writing, full of musings rather than action. Chapter 18 is finally up! - 'Song and Sword'
1. Thalwyn: Circle of Life

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Feedback: is more than welcome!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Author's notes: This hasn't been beta'd, so I hope you don't mind the little mistakes and odd wordings that I'm sure are in it. It's quite a dark piece of writing, written in POV chapters and full of musings rather than real action. A discussion on the question of how Elves smell let the initial idea for this little ficlet crop up in my mind. Well, any further explanation would spoil the effect, so I'd better shut up now...

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**A Spark in the Dark**

1 Thalwyn: Circle of Life 

The quietness of the forest is wonderful, calming. Apart from the occasional call of a bird, the only thing that can be heard is the sound of our horses' feet shuffling through the leaves that cover the path. This is one of the days that Aldarida and I enjoy ourselves on a long ride – without doubt one of the more happy days in my life.

Unfortunately, Aldarida is the only person who would take me on a ride, which makes each of our little trips something very special to me. Aldarida. My sister. Well, not my sister in blood, but I could not love a natural sister any more than I love her. And I know that she feels the same.

"Wait, Thalwyn. I think I have found what I was looking for," Aldarida's delighted voice interrupts my thoughts.

"All right." With a slight tug at the reins, I let my horse come to a halt. Then I close my eyes and raise my face towards the mild autumn sun. Her gentle fingers are reaching down through the thinned-out roof of leaves to caress my skin, and I savour the feel of their touch. My lips curve in a slight smile. It is such a wonderful, sunny day; the perfect day for a ride like this.

To my left, Aldarida mounts off her horse and leaves the path, dragging the gelding behind. I do not even consider following her example, since I know that she is looking for some herbs that are rare to be found. I would not be of great help to her; I do not know that much about herbs. And so instead of dismounting, I let go of the reins and lean back, letting my hands rest behind the saddle, eyes still closed, face still raised towards the sun.

My horse shakes her head; I can hear the rattling of her bit. Obviously, she is happy about the newly won freedom. Just a moment later, she takes a few reluctant steps to the right. I bet there are some branches, some last juicy leaves, that are luring her. Yes, there is one or the other plant that Liorin could never resist...

Relaxed, I take in all the sounds and scents around me; the sounds and scents of the forest. The air is filled with the smell of autumn, of dry leaves and soil. Many people speak of spring or summer to be the most beautiful time of the year, but to me each of the seasons has its unique beauty, even autumn.

I heave a sigh, inhaling deeply. Oh how I love this earthy scent! At no other time of the year do I feel closer to the earth, to the life-giving soil, than in autumn. She consumes the skeletons the trees rain down on her, consuming them to bring forth new life in spring. The circle of life, tangible in moments like this.

Liorin snorts happily. It seems that she has found some plants that are to her liking, for I can hear the rhythmical grinding of her teeth. The distinct smell of her warm fur mixes with the earthy autumn scent that fills the air.

From behind, somewhere to the left, Aldarida's voice reaches my ears – she has started humming a joyous melody. Once more, a smile steals upon my lips. I know the tune my sister is humming. It is a song about birds, the uncrowned kings of the air.

Birds. Flying. How I wish I could fly like a bird and look down at all the beauty below. With a few beats of my wings crossing the country from the Misty Mountains to the Shire and even further to the west – to the Great Sea. Thinking about it, I can almost hear the waves crashing against the shore. I try to imagine how it may _really_ sound...

All of a sudden, Liorin raises her head in one swift movement, as if she were alarmed by something. Every muscle in her body seems to tense.

Reluctantly, I sit up straight, not at all delighted about the disturbance of my reverie. My hands reach for the mare's neck, stroking it gently to calm her. "What is bothering you, my girl?" The last word of that question has not even come across my lips when I can finally hear it, too – a rustling in the undergrowth to our left. It is a faint sound, hardly audible. Some of the animals that inhabit these woods?

Aldarida however does not seem to have heard anything, for she is still humming to herself. I am just about to turn in my saddle and call over to her when the humming stops and a panicked cry from Aldarida makes me jump.

"Ride, Thalwyn! Get away from here, quick!"

At the same time, I hear her running for her own horse. And there is yet another sound – a singing that cuts through the air, sharp and piercing. Deadly.

_Arrows._

Without hesitating, I dig my heels hard into Liorin's flanks, making her jump forward at once, starting off in full gallop. I do not waste a single thought about picking up the reins. Liorin will run faster if I do not try to interfere; besides, I trust her to find the best way out of here on her own. And so, I lean forward flat onto my horse's neck instead, and bury my hands and face in her fluttering mane. That way, I will at least not have to worry about branches lunging for me in attempts to pull me from the saddle. As long as I manage to stay on Liorin's back, I will get away from here, unharmed. I will...

_But what about Aldarida?_

I strain my ears for any signs of her following me. At first, I am convinced to hear another horse taking up our pursuit, but then the sound of pounding hooves behind us is gone. I am just about to give in to the temptation of reaching for the reins and slowing Liorin down when a painfilled cry from somewhere far behind makes me freeze.

_Aldarida! Oh no, they must have got her!_

I raise my head. For a second, I am torn between riding on and turning back. My heart tells me to do the latter, but deep inside I know that I cannot help my sister. Maybe I have learned quite well how to defend myself with a knife against a single attacker of my own size, but I do not even know for sure who – or _what_ – it was that attacked us on the clearing. There is word that some evil creatures have appeared in different parts of Middle-earth, but I do not know any details. Maybe it was some of _them_ that just attacked us? The only thing I can say for sure is that there were arrows flying past me when I rode off head over heels.

_Arrows, Thalwyn!  
The only weapon you are equipped with is a knife, and there were archers. And you could not even tell how many there were of them..._

No matter how much the thought of leaving my sister behind hurts, there is nothing I can do but try to flee. Without doubt, all I would achieve if I went back would be to get myself killed.

Killed. Aldarida. I am unwilling to connect those two words in one thought. Best not to think about it at all for now. I have to ride on – fast, without looking back. Maybe the attackers have got horses as well. And maybe they have already taken up pursuit...

My heels increase the pressure to Liorin's flanks, spurring her to go even faster than before. Obeying the silent command, my dear horse starts racing forward as if a Balrog were chasing us. For a moment, I am not sure whether her hooves touch the ground underneath at all as she runs. 

Soon silent tears begin to pour from my eyes; not only because of the speed we are riding at, but also because I come to realise that I will most likely never see my beloved sister again.

Once more, I bury my face in Liorin's mane, my whole body now shaking with sobs, while the mare runs on as fast as she can. I have completely lost my bearings, but I do not care at all. My mind is already clouded with greater worries than that. Liorin will be able to find our way back. Horses do always find their way back home... But how can it be home without my sister?

I keep crying until my eyes hold no tears anymore. Liorin keeps running, although she has slowed down to a canter a while ago. Her breath now comes in rhythmic snorts, and the fur underneath my hands is already damp with sweat.

For how long have we been riding? I do not know. Nor do I even _want_ to know. We must have left the forest, though, for the ground underneath is hard, much harder than the path in the woods.

The steady rhythm of Liorin's hooves hitting the ground has something calming to it. Sleep. I want to sleep now. I feel worn out, empty. It seems that, with all those tears I shed, any strength, any will to go on, has left my body. Sleep... My common sense tells me to stay awake and alert, but maybe if I fall asleep, I will wake up in my bed and find out that everything was but a nightmare... Maybe...

I am too tired to even notice when Liorin slows further down. She finally comes to a halt, my exhausted form still bent forward, trembling hands still clutching the mare's mane. Only when I get aware of the voices right in front of us do I realise that we have stopped.

Voices. The sound of hooves, and voices. They are close, yet I cannot grasp what they are saying. Some more foes? A reinforcement maybe?

The talking stops; the clatter of hooves does not. It must be four or five horses – I cannot tell for sure –, and they are approaching.

_All right, so come and get me! Put an end to my misery..._

I do not even bother to sit up straight in my saddle. Liorin and I are both too worn out to attempt to flee another time. Nor would I have any strength left to fight. So why should I not hold on to my dear horse and wait, hoping that the end may come quick...

Now the other mounts have come to a halt next to us. Someone – some_thing_? – leans towards me. The faint creaking of leather and the soft rustling of clothes betray the movement. I am prepared; prepared for the deadly blow that will make me join the leaves on the ground.

_A corpse among corpses..._

"What are you waiting for? Now bring this to an end already!" My voice is an angry hiss, speaking of impatience rather than fear.

As an answer to my plead, a hand touches my right shoulder. I was prepared for worse, so I do not even flinch at the contact. To my surprise, the touch is accompanied by a calm voice whispering close to my ear, "Bring this to an end? What are you talking about? Who are you, and what has happened to you?"

It is a male voice that speaks to me; distinctively male despite its softness. In the background, two or three other voices whisper in some foreign tongue – a beautiful, melodic tongue.

The grip at my shoulder tightens, but not uncomfortably so. It is a reassuring gesture, a wordless offer to assist me in sitting up.

_Thalwyn, this is no foe!_

Reluctantly, I gather all the little strength that I have left and let go of Liorin's mane to sit up straight. The stranger's hand has now grabbed my upper arm, helping me up, steadying me in the saddle.

A long moment passes before he speaks to me once more in a soothing voice, "Now will you tell me what has happened, young lady?"

I turn my head towards him. His face is still close to mine, and I can hear as well as feel him drawing in a sharp breath when I force my tear-swollen eyes open.

"Thalwyn. My name is Thalwyn." This is all I manage to say before my eyelids flutter shut again, my body giving in to exhaustion.


	2. Legolas: Blue Shroud

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Feedback: is more than welcome!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

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**A Spark in the Dark**

2 Legolas: Blue Shroud 

Rivendell has called, and its call has been heard. We are on our way to the Last Homely House – a delightful thought were it not for an unpleasant reason that our coming has been asked for. The dark forces of Mordor are gaining strength, and it is at Rivendell that it will be decided how to respond to the growing threat.

None of us know what exactly is awaiting us at the council; what news Lord Elrond will have in store for us, and the closer we get to our destination, the more introspective we all become. Even Caranhil has stopped talking for a while, riding on next to me without saying a word, brooding. But only for a while, of course. He has never been one to endure silence for long, and so he soon brings up a conversation again, purposely avoiding the one serious theme that keeps circling in our minds.

So we ride on, talking more or less vividly, yet never taking our eyes completely off the road before us. We have almost reached our destination when our attention is drawn to the path in front of us even more than it has been anyway. Straight ahead, a figure has come into sight. A single horse is standing there on the path, motionless, its head hanging half way down. On its back, the horse is carrying a body that seems lifeless at first sight.

Caranhil and I exchange glances, and all talking stops as our small group approaches the miserable figure. Even from a distance, it becomes obvious that the inanimate rider is of the race of Men; a woman, to tell from the long, braided hair and from what little is visible of the face, most of it being hidden in the horse's mane. I dare not place a guess as to the woman's age, but she is quite young, if my first impression is not fooling me.

The horse is a mare, a chestnut of ordinary breed, yet well-fed and muscular. Her breath is quickened notably, flanks pumping, nostrils wide and pink. Steam rises from damp curls of fur. The mare must have run hard over quite a long distance.

But what does a female rider do here, and above all – why is she all on her own? These are dark times, and one should think that even ordinary Men were aware of it... And yet another question takes shape in my mind: Why does the woman not move?

_Is she dead?_

No, as we come closer, I see that she is breathing – faintly, but the movement of her ribcage is nonetheless perceptible to the searching eye. And her hands are shaking ever so slightly.

_O thank the Valar!_

The chestnut's ears twitch nervously when we approach and I let my own horse come to a halt next to her. She looks exhausted, but holds up her head just high enough to support her motionless rider. That little sign of loyalty the horse displays towards its rider calls an involuntary smile upon my lips.

I bend forward in order to both pat the mare's neck in a calming gesture and at the same time have a closer look at the woman. The horse seems to understand that I mean no harm, for it relaxes visibly at my touch; the woman however mutters something under her faint breath. Most of her words' meaning gets lost, since her voice is muffled by the masses of reddish brown horsehair her face is still buried in, yet I do not miss the hostile tone of her utterance – which is in fact more of a hiss than anything else.

Did my ears play a trick on me, or did the woman really say something about 'bringing an end to this'? Bringing an end to _what_?

I am utterly confused. If she looked up now, she could see my forehead wrinkle in a slight frown. Hesitantly, I touch her shoulder, my fingers barely closing around the delicate bones. I do not intend to frighten her.

"Bring this to an end? What are you talking about? Who are you, and what has happened to you?" I ask, my voice a mere whisper.

There is no reaction to the touch, nor to my words, spoken in the Common Tongue.

_What shall I do now?_

Caranhil as well as my other companions seem to be no less clueless than I am myself; I hear them whisper. Yet I do not strain my ears to get what exactly they are saying; all of my attention is drawn to the woman in front of me. Still she does not make any move to sit up or give an answer to any of my questions.

_Please speak to me! Or move, at last!_

Without really willing it, my fingers slightly increase the intensity of their grip, and – much to my relief – the woman seems to get the meaning of the wordless gesture, for she struggles to sit up ever so slowly. With a little help from me, she is finally sitting straight in her saddle, the thick braid of dark brown hair brushing against my fingers.

Now that I get full sight of her face, I conclude that my first impression was right – she _is_ young, not only by elvish standards; maybe nineteen or twenty years of age, I would guess.

I wait a moment before I ask her once more, "Now will you tell me what has happened, young lady?"

An unreadable expression crosses her features when she turns her head in my direction. Her face is flushed, the skin all around her closed eyes red and swollen like from hours of weeping.

When she eventually opens her eyes, the blood in my veins freezes at the unexpected view, and I cannot help but gasp. There is no life in this woman's eyes – they are enveloped in a milky fog; the pupils two grey dots hardly standing out from a shroud of light blue.

_Unseeing._

"Thalwyn. My name is Thalwyn."

I have just come aware that she has spoken, when the young woman's eyelids flutter shut again and her body goes limp. It is but thanks to my hand still holding her by her upper arm that she does not slide off the horse.


	3. Legolas: Watch

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Many thanks go out to Miss2Pouty for letting me know that she liked the first two chapters. :o)  
Anyone else out there who's reading this story? I'd like to know what _you_ think of it – if you love it, hate it, if it bores you to death, whatever... You can even flame me, if you like – I'm a bit cold at the moment anyway...lol Err...no, ignore that last remark! Come to think of it, I'd prefer constructive criticism over flames. ;o)

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**A Spark in the Dark**

3 Legolas: Watch 

She is still sleeping. The look on her face is not as peaceful as one might expect, though. I almost believe to notice a little wrinkling of her forehead, a slight frown.

_Is she dreaming?_

If she is, I hope that her dreams are not too unpleasant. The state she and her horse were in when we found them led me to the assumption that they had fled from..._something_. And if I am right with this, then that _something_ might still be chasing her in her sleep; at least I would not expect her dreams to be very joyful.

_If only I knew what exactly happened before we came along..._

But it is no use speculating; I will have to wait for her to wake up and tell me.

She has been sleeping all the way to Rivendell, and for some more hours in that bed she is now lying in. Fortunately, she bears no signs of any injuries, so obviously all she has to recover from is exhaustion and maybe shock.

My gaze strays from her sleeping form towards the open window beside the bed. The Sun is already setting, the soft touch of her rays bathing everything in shades of red and gold – a beautiful sight.

Right now, my companions are dining with the Master of this house, his family, and other guests. I however decided to stay here with the young woman; to watch over her in her sleep. But of course, I will not have to worry about going to sleep hungry; a tray laden with food and drink for both the girl and me has been brought earlier, now resting on the small table beside me, still untouched.

There are more than enough people dwelling at Lord Elrond's house who would have stayed with the young woman had I wanted to join the others at dinner, but I just could not leave her alone. We do not know for sure what has happened to her, and she will wake up in unfamiliar surroundings; if I am here when she awakes, then there will at least be a voice that she has heard before.

Yes, I think that my voice will probably be the only thing she will be able to recognise. In my opinion, there is no doubt that the girl is blind, since I have never seen eyes like hers before – unless with blind people.

_A stare as cold as ice._

The recollection of that brief moment when her milky blue eyes were looking at me – or rather right through me, as it felt –, devoid of any spark of life, sends a shiver down my spine.

My gaze returns to the sleeping young woman.

_She is blind, and yet she rides a horse._  
_A strange thought, is it not?  
And stranger even taken into account that she was all on her own when we found her..._

My musings are interrupted by a faint knock at the door. As I turn my head, the door slides open soundlessly, and a tall figure appears in the doorframe. It is not Caranhil returning from dinner, as I would have guessed...

I rise from the chair I've been sitting in to greet the man, my lips curving in a genuine smile. "Aragorn." I keep my voice low lest I wake the girl, and motion for the Noble Ranger to come in.

Aragorn throws a quick glance at the curled-up form in the bed and then walks over to me, returning the greeting with a short embrace before he speaks to me, "Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. It is good to see you." He smiles as well, but the smile does not reach his eyes, which are clouded with worry.

_A mirror image of my heart._

"As it is good to see _you_, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. If only the reason for our meeting were a more pleasant one."

The Ranger nods knowingly, letting his gaze once again wander over to the young woman. "So this is the girl your party found not far from here?"

"Aye, this is her." I do not take my eyes off Aragorn as I reply. "She is still sleeping, but I expect her to wake anytime soon."

"I hope she will." Again, Aragorn only manages to smile half-heartedly. Looking back at me, he adds, "And I am happy that she seems to be unscathed – unlike the other guest that is recovering under Lord Elrond's care."

_He must be talking about the hobbit._

I frown. "I heard that he was struck by a Morgul-blade on his way to Rivendell, and that the council will have to wait until he has fully recovered. It seems like the hobbit's presence at the gathering is of major importance."

Once more, Aragorn nods. "It is, my friend. And you will learn of those things soon enough." After a short pause, he adds, "but let us not wake the young woman with our talking. I shall go and meet the others in the Hall of Fire anyway. Will you join us later?"

"Yes, I shall join you as soon as I am sure not to be needed here any more."

Aragorn gently grabs my shoulder for a brief moment, then the Ranger turns and leaves the room as silently as he had entered. My eyes follow him, and I keep watching the closed door for a second or two before I cross the room to stand by the open window.

Meanwhile, the Sun has hidden behind the mountaintops, but the Moon and stars have come out lest darkness spread across the valley like the shadow of Mordor gradually spreading all across Middle-earth.

_We must not lose our hope that there will always be some light left to stand against the darkness, no matter how tiny a spark it may be..._

I do not know for how long I have been standing by the open window, gazing up at the stars, when I notice a movement out of the corner of an eye. It is accompanied by the soft rustling of cloth. I turn towards the bed to find that the young woman in it is now lying flat on her back, empty blue eyes staring up at the ceiling.

_She has finally woken!_


	4. Thalwyn: Darkness

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Many thanks to Jynx and Miss2Pouty for posting reviews. And don't worry, I don't feel stalked by reviewers. How could I? ;o)

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**A Spark in the Dark**

4 Thalwyn: Darkness 

As soon as I awake I know that I am not lying in my own bed. My bed is soft already, but this...this is just heavenly. Nevertheless, my forehead wrinkles in a frown. If I am not at home, in my own bed, then...

_Oh no!_

...then it means that I have _not_ just woken from a nightmare... 

_So it really has happened –  
            the ride into the woods,  
a rustling in the bushes,  
            the smell of autumn filling the air,  
Aldarida shouting a warning,  
            the sun gently caressing my face,  
arrows singing in the air,  
            the sound of Liorin munching on some plants,  
a bloodcurdling cry from behind as I flee..._

A lump forms in my throat. I want to scream, but I find myself unable to even open my mouth. Paralysed.

_No, this cannot be true! This **must** not be true!_

The lump in my throat seems to grow steadily, threatening to choke me. Darkness wraps around my heart. Again. I recall that same, icy hand closing around it, squeezing hard, when I first realised that my sister had not managed to flee, and that there was no way I could help her. All I had been able to do was to get away from there myself, riding blindly until Liorin would not run any further. The last thing I remember is that those other riders had appeared. They had seemed friendly, and one of them had spoken to me as if he wanted to help me.

Recalling that encounter with the strange riders, I wonder if it was them who brought me here – wherever this 'here' may be. At that moment, I become aware of the voices that are whispering somewhere across the room. As far as I can tell, there are two male voices. One of them might be that of the rider who spoke to me, but I am not entirely sure, for the whispers are so faint they hardly carry over to me. Needless to say that I cannot make out a single word of the talk.

I do not move, but lie still, eyes closed. I do not intend to announce my waking up – not yet. First, I will see how much I can find out about this place.

_O the irony of those words!  
As if my eyes could be of any help to me..._

Once more frowning, I draw my attention away from the voices in this room and instead focus on the other noises and the smells all around. This is definitely not my home, that much is for sure. The air is clear, subtly perfumed with the scent of trees and flowers. What a lovely scent, so fresh and earthy and sweet – all at the same time. It mixes with the smell of cooked food and burning candles.

A gurgling, splashing sound tells me that there must be a stream floating by with unbridled force; there might even be a waterfall somewhere near. I keep listening to the sound of the running waters for quite a while before I redirect my attention to the voices whispering across the room. Or should I say _try_ to do so; I strain my ears, but the only voices I can hear now come from somewhere else, hardly carrying over all the distance – they are singing and laughing, like there was some kind of merry-making going on. But the voices I heard before have gone. Apparently, I have been left on my own.

_On my own._

My sister has been taken from me, and now I wake up in a strange place – a _safe_ place? – and am left alone once more.

_If only I knew where I am, and who those riders were that I believe brought me here..._

I roll over onto my back and open my eyes, only to find the familiar blackness staring back at me – now weighing me down as heavily as the darkness that has clasped my heart.

"Thalwyn?"

I start as the soft voice breaks the silence. It comes from the left, not far from the bed.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you."

Now I recognise the voice; it belongs to the rider that spoke to me before I lost consciousness. But where does he come from, so all of a sudden? I could have sworn to be alone in this room...

I move to sit up straight in the bed, my back coming to rest against the headboard. "No, you did not frighten me. I had simply not expected anybody to be here with me." I pause for a second before I ask, "But where am I, and who are you?"

"My name is Legolas. My companions and I were on our way to Rivendell when we came across you, and that is where you are now – in Rivendell, in the house of Lord Elrond." His voice has come nearer, yet I could not hear him move.

_How does he do this?  
And Rivendell...Rivendell... I have heard that name before – but when and where?_

The second the question forms in my mind, I know the answer to it. Aldarida has often told me stories about strange places; about places of legend and magic. I recall her telling me about a place called Rivendell – she said that Elves dwelt there.

"Elves..."

_Did I say that aloud?_

"Yes, you are in the house of an Elf," the stranger by the name of Legolas confirms my assumption. I can almost hear him smile.

"Elves," I repeat dreamily. "My sister has told me about the Fair Folk, but I have never met an Elf." Suddenly it dawns on me. "Oh! But wait – the strange, beautiful language your comrades spoke...and I could not hear your footfalls when you walked over here..."

Legolas lets out a gentle laugh. "Aye, Thalwyn. Me and my companions are Elves as well." I feel rather than hear him sit down next to me on the edge of the bed as he speaks.

_Did you hear that? You're talking to an Elf, Thalwyn!_

For a brief moment, all sorrows are forgotten. My lips curve in a light smile.

_An Elf. _

I know little about Elves, but everything I do know about the Fair Folk I learned from the stories my dear sister used to tell.

_But Aldarida will never tell me any of her stories again..._

The lump in my throat is back as quickly as it had vanished before, wiping the smile from my lips again. I swallow hard. It is when I feel Legolas' fingers gently close around mine that I become aware that my hands are trembling. Just then tears spring into my eyes, and a moment later I find myself lying in the stranger's arms, shaking with sobs. My hands have grabbed the front of his shirt, clinging to the soft fabric as if my life depended on it, while he has loosely put his arms around me. Almost insecure.

But then his hands start roaming my back in a feathery touch, and I hear Legolas speak to me. His silken voice washes over me, murmuring in that beautiful, foreign tongue I now know to be some dialect of Elvish. These whispers are the most comforting I have ever heard – despite the fact that I cannot understand a single word. 

My face is buried in Legolas' shirt, and he has tilted his head down so that he whispers close to my ear. I can feel each and every of his breaths dance across my skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. Before long the voice of the Elf, his sheer presence, fills my mind, helping me to push aside the worries and the pain inside me. The words that roll from his tongue brush across my heart and tear open the veil of darkness that has wrapped around it.

After a while my sobs ebb away, and the stream of tears finally runs dry. But even when I have calmed down, Legolas keeps holding me, never stopping to speak to me. I do not make a move to break the embrace either. All I want is savour the feeling of safety and comfort he gives me, just for another moment.


	5. Legolas: Comfort

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

I am very happy to hear that the few people who read my story are enjoying it so far. Many thanks for reviewing, everyone!  
This was originally planned as a short ficlet of 4 or 5 chapters, but it seems like you'll get some more chapters to read than just 5. I hope you don't mind. ;o)  
But now on with the story... Enjoy!

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**A Spark in the Dark**

5 Legolas: Comfort 

When I am sure that Thalwyn is awake, I turn towards the bed and softly call her name to let her know that she is not alone. She jumps at the sound of my voice – a reaction that makes me silently reprimand myself for startling her so.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you." With slow steps, I approach the bed until I stand right beside it.

At the same time, Thalwyn struggles into a sitting position and turns her head towards me. Once more, I find milky blue eyes staring right through me, but this time I am prepared for it. It still makes me feel uneasy to meet her gaze, but not quite as much as before.

The young woman's voice is firm, yet gentle as she replies to my apology, "No, you did not frighten me. I had simply not expected anybody to be here with me."

_She seriously thought we would leave her all on her own?_

But before I can even comment on this, Thalwyn speaks again, this time asking me where she is now, and who I am.

"My name is Legolas," I briefly introduce myself, leaving out the formal title. "My companions and I were on our way to Rivendell when we came across you, and that is where you are now – in Rivendell, in the house of Lord Elrond."

When I mention the name 'Rivendell', an unreadable expression – _that of recognition?_ _of doubt? _– is flitting across Thalwyn's features. Eager to know what is crossing the young woman's mind, yet reluctant to ask, I cock my head to the side and study her face intently, cautiously. I watch her dark eyebrows furrow as if she is thinking hard, the unfocused stare of her eyes betraying none of her thoughts.

_The name of this place cannot possibly have reminded her of anything unpleasant, can it?_

But much to my relief, her features relax again after a brief moment. And finally, the corners of Thalwyn's lips rise in a small, but genuine smile. "Elves..." she whispers, a hint of disbelief in her voice. Obviously, she did not mean to say this out loud, for a slight blush creeps onto her cheeks just then.

"Yes, you are in the house of an Elf." I allow my slight amusement to show through in my voice.

"Elves," the young woman repeats as if to assure herself that this is not a dream. "My sister has told me about the Fair Folk, but I have never met an Elf." She pauses, and there it is again – the wrinkling of her forehead that reveals how hard her mind must be working. Thalwyn's voice is agitated when she finally resumes her speech. "Oh! But wait – the strange, beautiful language your comrades spoke...and I could not hear your footfalls when you walked over here..."

Now a mixture of recognition, disbelief, and surprise is written all over her face, and I cannot help but laugh gently. "Aye, Thalwyn. Me and my companions are Elves as well." Half convinced, half hoping that Thalwyn will not mind, I sit down on the edge of the bed, facing her. And indeed, it does not seem to cause her discomfort in the least. Quite the contrary, to tell from the smile that has now spread across Thalwyn's face.

_And did my enhanced vision play a trick on me, or was there a spark of life flickering in her unseeing eyes when I confirmed that I am an Elf myself?  
But maybe it was just the light of one of the candles reflecting in her eyes..._

However, I can tell by the look on her face that Thalwyn is delighted to finally meet an Elf; that she feels comfortable in my company. Nevertheless, her smile does not last for long. Already her lips press together firmly in a thin, pink line, and she swallows hard. And as I let my gaze stray down to her hands, I notice that they have started shaking.

_Any sign of happiness gone in the blink of an eye...  
What happened to you, Thalwyn? What horrors did you face?_

I dare not ask those questions aloud, fearing that I might upset the young woman even more. Instead, I take her hands in mine to reassure her that everything will be all right.

My hands have barely come to touch hers when a first tear makes its way down Thalwyn's cheek. I softly brush a thumb across the back of one of her hands, but her trembling fingers free themselves from my loose grasp and reach out searchingly towards me. Not knowing what else to do, I lean forward and enfold her in a light embrace. The young woman's hands get a grip on the front of my tunic, and she leans in to me, her forehead coming to rest against my chest, the tears now flowing in streams.

"Shhh." I close my eyes and tilt my head down so that my cheek touches Thalwyn's temple, while my hands have started running up and down her back all by themselves. Then I begin to speak to her in order to calm her down, involuntarily switching to my mother tongue as all those sweet formulas of consolation and reassurance pour from my lips. What exactly I tell her, I cannot say for sure, for all of my attention is focused on the shaking form in my arms, on her shuddering breaths in between sobs.

At first it seems that my humble attempts to soothe her are in vain, but then, to my great relief, the trembling and the sobs begin to subside. After a while, even Thalwyn's fingers loosen their death grip on my shirt, and the young woman lays her hands flat against the now rumpled fabric in a relaxed fashion. I keep speaking to her, my voice a faint whisper, while I let my own hands come to rest somewhere below Thalwyn's shoulder blades under waterfalls of dark brown hair.

We have been sitting like that for a while, motionless, when Thalwyn is finally stirring in my arms. My whispers stop, and I open my eyes as she draws back a few inches to sit up straight. Her head is tilted down, and her hands have dropped into her lap.

"I am so sorry," she begins. "I..." Her voice trails off as she seems to be searching for the right words to explain herself.

"It is all right, Thalwyn." My hands gently squeeze her shoulders in a reassuring gesture. "There is no need for you to apologise. Just tell me what happened, and if there is anything I can do for you."

Thalwyn raises her head, yet it takes her a moment to answer me. And when she speaks, the undertone in her voice betrays that she has to force herself not to cry again. "I appreciate your kind offer, Legolas, but I fear that there is little you could do for me." Once more, she drops her gaze. "You cannot bring her back to me. Nobody can..."

Just as I am about to ask her whom she is speaking of, Thalwyn looks up again. "My sister and I were out in the woods gathering herbs when all of a sudden, we were attacked. I managed to escape, but Aldarida..." Even if Thalwyn's dead eyes do not display any emotion, her facial expression speaks of pain.

_This is worse than I had feared..._

Hesitantly, I let my hands slide down her arms to envelop her now fidgeting fingers with mine. "So that is why you and your horse were that exhausted when we found you – you had been fleeing from those attackers..."

_And that must also be the reason why she first thought me and my companions meant to do her harm..._

Thalwyn gives me a slight nod.

_But who attacked them? And why? And where did all this take place exactly? Thalwyn's horse seemed to have run for miles..._

Questions over questions take shape in my mind. I am well aware that it will not be easy for Thalwyn, but I need for her to answer at least some of them. It takes me a moment to make up my mind and ask her to tell me every detail she remembers.

The pain-filled expression on her face almost makes me wish I had not asked. But then Thalwyn nods once more, takes in a deep, yet shaking breath, and begins to speak. Her voice is surprisingly calm, and she gives me a complete account of what happened, beginning with her sister and her setting out on their horses, and ending with her telling me her name before losing consciousness.

I hang on her every word, all the while holding her restless hands in mine, now and then letting a thumb brush across them. When Thalwyn has finally finished, the first feeling that stirs in my heart is grief.

_She has lost the person she loved most. The person that cared for her most._

But then another thought crosses my mind, and I reach up to put my hands on Thalwyn's shoulders. "Thalwyn, I... How can you be so sure if..." I frown at the difficulties I am having with finding the right words. "What I am trying to say is that, from what you told me, I think there is still some hope that your sister has not been killed. You heard her cry out in anguish, but maybe she was just injured and taken captive."

_Which is not exactly a pleasant thought either, I must admit..._

"Or perhaps she was not even taken captive," I go on, "but the attackers blocked her path so that she could not follow you, and she had to flee in another direction." My eyes are locked on Thalwyn's face, studying it intently. The look she gives me tells me that neither of those possibilities had occurred to her before.

I lean closer to her. "Thalwyn, maybe she is still alive. I know there is only little hope, but at least there is. And I think we should ask Lord Elrond to send out a search party in order to find out what exactly happened."

Thalwyn arches a brow. "But...but why should your good Elven Lord be interested in sending out some of his people anyway?" The sound of her voice clearly reflects her doubts. "I am just some stranger to him – as I am to you –, and not even an Elf, at that."

Despite the seriousness of the topic, that last remark almost makes me chuckle. But only for a brief moment; then my thoughts return to Thalwyn's question of why the Master of Rivendell should show any interest in sending out a search party.

_I doubt that in times like this, Lord Elrond would not want to know what is going on in this part of Middle-earth, so close to his home..._

However, I do not intend to get Thalwyn worried by speaking of the darkness that is spreading further and further across the lands, so I simply state, "I am sure he will gladly offer his help nonetheless, Thalwyn. You are already a guest in his house, remember?"

The hint of a smile forms on Thalwyn's lips. "Yes, and I have not even thanked you for bringing me here, Legolas."

"It is all right, Thalwyn," I assure her, smiling myself. My hands gently squeeze her shoulders before I let go of the young woman and rise from the bed. "But now I would like to go and have a word with Lord Elrond. The sun has already set, so it would not make any sense to send out a search party tonight, but I will ask him to have some riders setting off at dawn. Will you be all right if I leave you on your own for a moment?"

When Thalwyn answers with a nod, I turn and head for the Hall of Fire.


	6. Thalwyn: Look Around

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Once more many thanks to everybody who's been posting reviews. I can't seem to point out often enough that any kind of comment is appreciated.  
@Miss2Pouty: Don't worry – as long as I know that there are at least _some_ people out there who read this story, I will keep writing. ;o)  
@memyselfI: I know that my chapters are quite short, but I fear that you'd have to wait several weeks for a single chapter if I made them much longer. First, I'm quite a perfectionist, and second, English is not my native language - so it takes me a bit longer to have a new chapter finished and be content enough with it to post it. ;o)  
@gershwin: Yes, you will get to know some more facts about Thalwyn's 'family' (including Aldarida's relation to her) later in the story. In one of the...say...4-8 chapters that are still to come. Lol

But now on with the story... Enjoy!

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**A Spark in the Dark**

6 Thalwyn: Look Around 

_"Thalwyn, maybe she is still alive."_

Legolas' words echo in my mind as I hear him close the door of the chamber behind him.

_How could I not see this possibility?_

Being well aware of how slim the chances are that the Elf is right, I exhort myself not to have too high hopes. Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel relieved.

_It is as Legolas said – there is only little hope, but at least there is._

I sigh, and just then my stomach makes a growling sound, which causes an involuntary smirk to creep onto my lips. Yes, I am hungry. Now that some of the clouds of worry have drifted from my mind, I realise it. Once again, I focus on the scents in the room.

_Autumn air. Candles. And...cooked food!_

It is difficult to exactly locate the source of the luring smell, but the idea of exploring this room on my own sounds very tempting anyway. And although every muscle in my body is sore, I would like to stretch my limbs and walk around for a bit.

Without hesitating any further, I push away the blanket and swing my legs to the left, over the edge of the bed. The bed is high enough for my toes to barely reach the floor. I stand so that the soles of my bare feet touch the floor. Cold and very smooth. Most likely some sort of polished stone.

Carefully, I shuffle sidewards to the left, one of my hands reaching out in the direction of my movement. Only one, two steps, and my hand comes to contact with a wall, just as I would have assumed. Feeling my way along the wall will be the safest way to begin my exploration of the chamber. If I know my surroundings, I may be able to move freely without bumping into things, but this room is unfamiliar territory to me, and I have yet to draw a mental map of it.

One hand keeping contact to the wall, the other now stretched out forward-downwards, I move on in the direction of where Legolas must have stood when he first addressed me. After a few small steps, I come to an opening in the wall. A refreshing breeze welcomes me, playfully blowing a strand of hair across my face. I reach up to tuck it behind my ear. Usually, I would wear my hair plaited into a single, thick braid, but right now it is flowing down my back and shoulders, single strands at the sides of my face dancing in the wind. Someone must have freed my hair from the braid while I was asleep.

_And someone must have changed my clothes as well._

My hands feel the silky fabric of the loose gown that floats around my body.

_Well, at least I cannot remember wearing a nightgown on our ride..._

With a chuckle, I turn toward the opening in the wall. It is a window. Already my hands have found the ledge, and I let them rest on it as I slightly lean forward into the gentle breeze and take a deep breath. I stand at the open window for a moment before I resume my exploration of the chamber. Once again, I feel my way along the wall – around a corner, and further on – until my outstretched hand comes to touch with an obstacle right in front of me. It takes me mere seconds to find out what kind of an object it is that is barring my way.

_A wooden chair. And quite a skilfully crafted one, at that._

I turn away from the wall and start making my way around the chair. One of my hands still touches its backrest, the other is stretched out in front of me again. Now I move with even greater care than before. The presence of a chair, along with the fact that the smell of food and candles has become more intense, indicate that there must be a table somewhere near.

_And I would not want to bump into the table and knock over some burning candles, now would I?_

It does not take me long to find the table, and I let my trained fingers examine it expertly. It is a small, wooden table, carved with intricate ornaments – much like the chair that I already had a look at. The table is standing close to the wall. A tray laden with several bowls, cutlery, two plates, and three goblets – _three?_ – is resting on it, as well as a candelabrum. The blend of delicate smells that rises from the steaming bowls makes my stomach growl once more, and I am tempted to try some of the food. However, I decide to have a look at the rest of the chamber first. I need to complete my mental map of it.

_Besides, it would be rude to touch the food before Legolas has returned..._

The plates on the tray seem both to be unused, as well as the forks and knives, so I assume that I am not the only one who has not had their dinner yet.

_But why three goblets?_

I shrug off the question and turn to further explore the chamber. I have just felt my way around a second chair on the opposite side of the table when Legolas returns. The door opens without so much as making a sound, but he announces his arrival as he enters the room.

"Thalwyn, I..." However, he does not finish the sentence.

_I suppose he is a little surprised to see me up and walking around._

And indeed, puzzlement shows through in the Elf's voice as he asks, "What are you doing, Thalwyn?"

"What I am doing? Just having a look around the room." I can barely suppress a smirk. It is obvious that Legolas is not used to being around blind people.

_Well, I wonder if there are any blind Elves at all. I bet not._

There is silence for a second before Legolas speaks at last, "I bring good news, Thalwyn. I spoke with Lord Elrond. He gladly offered to send out a search party at dawn – just as I had assured you he would."

"Thank you, Legolas. Thank you so much." With a shy smile, I turn towards the chair that I had just walked around before Legolas returned, and sit down on it.

_Still I wonder why is he is doing this for me; why anybody here should show any interest in trying to help me..._

The faint sound of the other chair sliding across the stone floor tells me that Legolas follows my example and takes a seat across from me. "You must be hungry, Thalwyn."

It is more a statement than a question, nevertheless my stomach decides to answer it with another growl. I cannot help but laugh. "Yes, indeed."

Now Legolas laughs as well. It is a gentle sound; full and rich, yet melodious as the song of a bird. "Well, then let us see what there is for dinner." With these words, he sets out the plates and cutlery; then he starts naming the contents of the various bowls for me so that I may choose what to eat.

_Mm... This is heaven. This truly is heaven._

"You know what, Legolas?" I interrupt the Elf, "I think I will simply try a little bit of everything."

"As the lady wishes."

While Legolas is occupied with loading food onto our plates, the question that struck me earlier comes to my mind again. "But tell me, Legolas, why are there three goblets on the tray? Do you expect anyone to keep us company?"

"Nay, Thalwyn. There are two goblets of wine, and another one is filled with water. I was not sure whether you would like to try some elven wine, so I had both be brought for you."

"Ah, I see." I smile and reach out to where I remember the goblets to be standing. "And which one would be the water?"

"Wait, let me..." Legolas takes one of the goblets and places it right in front of my hand so that the tips of my fingers come to touch it.

"Thank you." My fingers close around the goblet, and I lift it to my lips to take a sip of the water. Once the refreshing liquid is running down my throat, I realise how thirsty I am. When I finally set the goblet back down onto the table some seconds later, it is emptied.

I can hear Legolas chuckle. "Shall I bring you some more, Thalwyn?"

"No, I am fine." I wave his offer off. "Maybe later. Thank you, Legolas. First, I would like to try some of this delicious smelling food." With a smile, I reach for my fork.

_I am having dinner with an Elf.  
I still cannot believe it._


	7. Legolas: Little Surprises

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Finally! A new chapter.  
As promised, here's what Legolas thinks about Thalwyn's little exploration of the chamber. Besides, some questions concerning Thalwyn and her family are answered in this chapter. And...well, you'll have to read the rest yourself.  
Enjoy! ;o)

Oh, by the way, did I mention that I _hate_ writing dialogue? lol

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**A Spark in the Dark**

7 Legolas: Little Surprises 

My feelings are mixed when I leave the Hall of Fire to return to the room Thalwyn has been accommodated in. On the one hand, as was to be expected, Lord Elrond agreed on trying to find out what exactly happened to Thalwyn's sister. Caranhil, along with some Elves from Rivendell, are going to set out at dawn to follow back the tracks of Thalwyn's horse. This is news that am sure Thalwyn will be pleased to hear. On the other hand, I am still worried about the young woman. Although she seemed to be all right when I left for my talk with the Master of the house, I wonder what will become of her should the search party find the worst of her fears confirmed...

The sheer thought of it makes my heart ache. As far as I can tell, Aldarida was – or hopefully still is – the most important person in Thalwyn's life. Thalwyn has not told me any details about her family, but I got the impression that the blind woman would feel quite lost without her sister.

_Blind._

To someone like me – an Elf with keen eyes – being bereft of the ability to see is one of the worst nightmares imaginable. Not being able to watch the Moon and stars glittering like silver in the night sky... Not being able to enjoy the sight of gold and copper leaves as they are dancing in an autumn breeze, spiralling down toward the ground...

_Colours.  
Does Thalwyn even know what colours are? If she was born blind, she will certainly not._

I know not whether she was born blind, or if Thalwyn lost her sight due to an accident or maybe an illness. However, the young woman needs help, and as long as my obligations allow it, I am going to offer her any assistance that I can. I was sent to Rivendell in order to act as representative of my father's kingdom at the council, but as Lord Elrond let me know, it might take another one or two days until the council can be held. One or two more days, I will have time to keep Thalwyn company without neglecting my duties.

I notice that my feet have already carried me up to the door of Thalwyn's room. I stand in front of it, hesitant. I do not know what is going to await me on the other side of the door, but I hope that the memories of the attack and her worries about her sister have not wrapped Thalwyn's heart in darkness again.

_I'd better not keep her waiting for my return any longer._

Slowly, I let the wooden door swing open. "Thalwyn, I..." I break off in mid-sentence at what I see before me. It is Thalwyn, standing by the table, one of her hands touching the backrest of a chair. Her head turns in my direction at the sound of my voice, and I can see that she is smiling.

_Well, at least this time I did not startle her._

"What are you doing, Thalwyn?"

_Of all things, I did definitely not expect to see her walking about._

"What I am doing? Just having a look around the room." The expression on her face clearly speaks of amusement.

_She makes it sound as if it were the most natural thing for a blind woman to be walking around all on her own in a place that is unfamiliar to her._

It takes me a second to gather my thoughts and speak again, and I decide to change to a more important subject. "I bring good news, Thalwyn. I spoke with Lord Elrond. He gladly offered to send out a search party at dawn – just as I had assured you he would."

"Thank you, Legolas. Thank you so much." With another smile, Thalwyn turns towards the chair and takes a seat. Her movements are careful, yet all but hesitant. It is obvious that the young woman knows exactly where the table is standing.

_Astonishing._

My eyes keep resting on Thalwyn as I walk past her and pull out the chair across from her to sit down as well. Just when I state that she must be hungry, Thalwyn's stomach growls. The young woman lets out a laugh, "Yes, indeed."

I cannot help but laugh myself. "Well, then let us see what there is for dinner." I take the two plates off the tray and set them out before us.

_I doubt that Thalwyn had enough time to find out what kind of food there is in all the bowls on the tray._

So I start telling her, only to be interrupted by her after a while, "You know what, Legolas? I think I will simply try a little bit of everything."

"As the lady wishes."

I am occupied with loading food onto both of our plates when Thalwyn suddenly asks, "But tell me, Legolas, why are there three goblets on the tray? Do you expect anyone to keep us company?"

Once more, I am surprised.

_She must have examined the table in detail while I was away..._

"Nay, Thalwyn," I start explaining. "There are two goblets of wine, and another one is filled with water. I was not sure whether you would like to try some elven wine, so I had both be brought for you."

"Ah, I see. And which one would be the water?" With a smile, she reaches out in the direction of the goblets.

Although Thalwyn's hand is moving across the table with astonishing precision, I decide to help her a little. "Wait, let me..." I lift the goblet that is filled with water and place it within Thalwyn's reach. As soon as her fingers come to touch it, she thanks me and lifts the goblet to her lips, emptying it with a few deep swigs.

However, Thalwyn politely denies my offer to go and get some more water for her. Instead, she picks up her fork to start eating. I follow her example, and soon we both enjoy our meal more or less in silence. Only Thalwyn points out repeatedly between bites how delicious the food is.

After a while, I put down my fork and reach for one of the goblets of wine to take a sip of the sweet liquid, all the while watching the young woman sitting across from me. I am well aware that it is an impolite thing to do, but I cannot help it. There are still some things that I would like to ask her, but I have decided to wait until after dinner before bothering her with any more questions.

It is Thalwyn who finally breaks the silence, putting aside her fork as well. "I just hope that Aldarida is all right." She pauses. "My father needs her. _I_ need her."

I raise an eyebrow, slightly puzzled by her words. "Why do you say '_my_ father'? I believe you told me that Aldarida was your sister?"

Thalwyn gives me a nod. "She is, in a way. Although we are not related. But that is a long story."

"Which I would very much like to hear," I encourage her to go on, sensing a chance to get some of my unuttered questions answered without having to ask directly.

Thalwyn sighs, smiling. "Well, like I said, Aldarida and I are not related. My father took her in when I was young. She happened to come by our farm in search for work and a place to stay. And since we could very well need a hand in the house, my father offered her accommodation. So Aldarida got to live with us. And although she is some years older than I am, we got along very well from the beginning. We would do everything together; she would tell me stories, take me out on a walk or a ride into the woods... She has soon become more than just a friend. To me, she _is_ my older sister."

_Yet there is something missing in this story..._

"And what about your mother, Thalwyn? You have been speaking of your father, but not a word of your mother."

At this, the expression on Thalwyn's face darkens notably.

_I fear that my question has stirred up unpleasant memories._

However, Thalwyn's voice is calm when she answers. "My mother... She had left us about a year before Aldarida happened to come by. I was too young then to understand why she had gone, but years later, my father explained to me that she could not stand the pressure of both caring about the house and looking after a blind child." Much to my surprise, there is not even the slightest hint of reproach in her voice.

"So...you were born blind?" The question comes across my lips without my really willing it.

"To be honest, I do not know. I have been told that my eyes started getting dull soon after I was born. No one ever managed to find out what was wrong with them, but they suspected that I could still see in the beginning. I cannot say for sure, though." Thalwyn shrugs her shoulders. "As long as I remember, the world around me has been dark." This time, her voice is clearly coloured with bitterness.

_So she has never been able to marvel at the beauties of the world..._

My heart clenches like a fist. "I...I am sorry, Thalwyn."

She shakes her head in the negative. "There is nothing to be sorry about, Legolas. I have learned to cope with my blindness, and I get along very well. I grew up with it. I guess it would be much harder had I lost my sight due to an accident. Maybe then I would wish there was a way for me to regain the ability to see. But I have been blind as long as I can remember. I do not miss the ability to see. Why should I miss something that I never really got to know?" The wry smile she gives me is not very convincing.

But before I get a chance to comment on it, Thalwyn speaks again, "Besides, there is more than one way to 'see' the things around you." She pauses, cocking her head to the side. "Legolas, may I ask you a favour?"

A slight blush has crept onto her cheeks, and I wonder what it is that she would like to ask of me. "Aye. What can I do for you?"

Thalwyn slowly pushes back her chair and stands, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of the nightgown she is wearing. "Would...would you sit on the bed with me for a minute?"

_What is she up to?_

I rise from my chair as well and walk over to Thalwyn. When I gently lay a hand on her shoulder to guide her across the room, she answers with a smile. I lead her over to the bed, and when we have reached it, we sit down on it next to each other.

Thalwyn clears her throat, sitting up straight. Her unfocussed gaze turns vaguely in my direction as she finally speaks. "Legolas, I told you about Aldarida, about my family; yet I still know little more about you than your name and that you are an Elf. I would like to ask you to tell me some more about yourself, and..." The reddish colour of Thalwyn's cheek deepens, and she seems to have difficulties finding the right words.

_And?_

"You must know that Aldarida has told me many things about Elves." Now Thalwyn turns fully toward me, one of her eyebrows arched questioningly. "Tell me, Legolas, are you Elves really as beautiful as people say?"

I am not entirely sure how to answer that question. "Well..."

But Thalwyn already waves her hands, letting out a gentle laugh. "No, do not tell me. I mean, what I really wanted to ask you is..." Again, she hesitates, and her hands come to rest in her lap. "May...may I see for myself?" Once more, Thalwyn tilts her head to the side.

_See for herself? But how?_

"Like I said, there is more than one way to see the things around you..." Thalwyn raises her hands in front of her, palms upwards, and I understand.

_Her fingers. She sees with her fingers.  
Of course!_

"Legolas, I could well understand if you did not want me to..."

"No, no, it is all right, Thalwyn," I assure her. "It is all right." Then I carefully take her hands in mine and guide them up to my face. I let go of them once Thalwyn's fingertips come to touch my cheeks.

"Thank you, Legolas. This really means a lot to me." Thalwyn gives me a warm smile, then she closes her eyes, and her fingers start moving.


	8. Thalwyn: Silent Dance

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Finally! Fanfiction.net is working properly again. :o)  
Well, and here's the long awaited chapter 8. Thalwyn gets to 'see' Legolas. Yay! lol  
I think this was the chapter that was the hardest to write so far. I'm just glad that obviously, our neighbours from across the street did not watch me while I was working on it, otherwise I'm sure they'd have called the men in the white coats... (You're laughing? Well, you should have seen me staring at Legolas pics for hours and repeatedly tracing my own features with my fingers, trying to figure out how Thalwyn would try to 'see' Leggy's face! lol)  
Well, I've babbled enough. If you've got any suggestions on how to improve the descriptions in this chapter, just let me know.

But now ENJOY! *grins*  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

8 Thalwyn: Silent Dance 

I cannot help but tell Legolas over and over again how delicious the food is. However, the various tastes that delight my tongue with every bite I take cannot keep me from thinking of my sister. At first, I keep my thoughts to myself, unwilling to break the comfortable silence that has spread. But when I realize that brooding will not give my any comfort, I put down my fork. "I just hope that Aldarida is all right." After a short pause, I add, "My father needs her. _I_ need her."

"Why do you say '_my_ father'? I believe you told me that Aldarida was your sister?" Puzzlement shows through in Legolas' voice.

I nod. "She is, in a way. Although we are not related. But that is a long story."

Nevertheless, Legolas assures me that he would like to hear it, and so I explain to him how Aldarida entered my life, and how she became like a sister to me. I reduce the story to only the most basic facts, and as soon as I have finished, Legolas asks, "And what about your mother, Thalwyn? You have been speaking of your father, but not a word of your mother."

_My mother. She has been part of my life for far too short a time..._

I frown at the thought of her and the reason why my mother once left us. However, I manage to keep my voice steady and calm as I tell Legolas why I had not mentioned her before. 

Legolas does not comment on the fact that my mother left her husband and little child, which I am very grateful for. Somehow I can understand what made her go. I have no grudge against her. It must have been all but easy for her to do all the housework and at the same time raise a blind child. Too hard, as it seemed.

However, something in my story has roused the interest of the Elf. "So...you were born blind?" He sounds very moved as he asks the question.

"To be honest, I do not know," I start explaining. "I have been told that my eyes started getting dull soon after I was born. No one ever managed to find out what was wrong with them, but they suspected that I could still see in the beginning. I cannot say for sure, though." I shrug. "As long as I remember, the world around me has been dark." The tone of my voice has unavoidably changed from casual to bitter.

"I...I am sorry, Thalwyn." The Elf's statement is filled with an emotion that is not easy for me to read.

_It did sound like more than the usual pity.  
Almost as if the thought of being blind would scare him to death._

I shake my head. "There is nothing to be sorry about, Legolas." Then I try to make clear to him that I never really got to know what it is like to be able to see.

_The memories of my first weeks, months, even years, in this world are buried under that veil of darkness that has accompanied me for so many years.  
Wiped out._

"Why should I miss something that I never really got to know?" Even though I give Legolas a smile, I am well aware that I did not manage to play over the fact that, indeed, I wish there was a way for me to regain my ability to see. That I could take in the world around me with _all_ of my senses, not only by hearing, smelling, tasting and touching.

_But I fear that my arguments cannot even fool a stranger like him._

"Besides, there is more than one way to 'see' the things around you." A last, pitiful attempt to convince Legolas – _or rather myself?_ – that I am content with my situation.

_Just look at me – here I am, sitting with an Elf; with one of those fair creatures I have longed to meet since I first heard about them. And I cannot even see what he looks like.  
Well, not in the common sense. But maybe..._

The moment I think of the possibility, my mind fills with doubt.

_No, I'd better not... It is pretty obvious that he is not accustomed to dealing with blind people._  
_What will he think of me if I ask him to let me touch his face?  
But then again, when will I get another opportunity to find out what Elves look like?  
Probably never again._

The decision is made. Curiosity has taken the better of me, and I am determined not to let this one opportunity slip. "Legolas, may I ask you a favour?" I can feel my cheeks burning with heat, but I do not care. 

"Aye." His voice is a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise. "What can I do for you?"

I get up from my chair. As soon as I stand, my nervous fingers reach for the fabric of my nightgown, just to have something to hold on to. "Would...would you sit on the bed with me for a minute?"

_It will be easier to ask if he is sitting right beside me._

I hear the other chair slide across the floor, and a moment later, Legolas is standing next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. With a smile, I let him lead me over to the bed. Once we sit on the edge of it, I clear my throat. Still indecisive on how to ask the question that is burning on my tongue, I make up my mind to try a somewhat indirect approach.

"Legolas, I told you about Aldarida, about my family; yet I still know little more about you than your name and that you are an Elf. I would like to ask you to tell me some more about yourself, and..." My cheeks are now fully set aflame. The heat is already spreading across my entire face.

_I can do this. I know I can._

I turn fully toward Legolas. "You must know that Aldarida has told me many things about Elves. Tell me, Legolas, are you Elves really as beautiful as people say?" I ask, raising a brow.

"Well..." Legolas begins, hesitant.

_Has my question embarrassed him?_  
_Anyway, I do not want him to describe to me what Elves look like, but find out myself._

Laughing, I wave my hands to indicate that I do not expect him to go on. "No, do not tell me. I mean, what I really wanted to ask you is..."

_It is now or never._

It takes me a second to gather up all my courage. "May...may I see for myself?" Much to my surprise, my voice does not falter, and I cock my head to the side, eagerly awaiting the Elf's reply.

When Legolas does not answer at once, I decide to make a little clearer what exactly I am asking of him. "Like I said, there is more than one way to see the things around you..." I raise my hands in his direction, palms upwards, hoping that he will understand.

_Why does he still not give me an answer? Have I done something wrong?  
Did my demand insult him in any way?_

"Legolas, I could well understand if you did not want me to..."

Finally, Legolas seems to have regained his ability to speak. "No, no, it is all right, Thalwyn." His voice is soft and reassuring. "It is all right." And when the Elf's slender fingers close around mine and guide my hands up to his face, I know that his hesitation to answer my question has never been a sign of discomfort, but of sheer surprise.

I smile at him. "Thank you, Legolas. This really means a lot to me." And I mean it. In fact, being given the opportunity to find out myself what the Elf sitting next to me looks like makes my stomach tighten in a knot. Too long have I been waiting for a chance like this.

_I can do this. I have done it so many times before..._

Already my fingers have started moving out of their own volition; a group of dancers that know their steps too well to need any guidance. Tonight they seem to move a bit slower, a bit more careful than usual, though. Almost as if they were afraid to stumble.

I block out any sounds; the faint crackling of the candles on the table, the song and laughter that is wafting in through the open window. My fingertips need no music to perform their silent dance – the only thing that is of importance right now is the ground they are moving across...a skin so soft, so flawless that for a second, my breath seems to catch in my throat.

But routine has taken over, and as soon as the index fingers of both of my hands have met at the tip of Legolas' nose, they start making their way upwards. While the index fingers run along the ridge of the nose, the middle fingers trace its sides, taking in the aristocratic shape, mapping it. At the bridge of the nose, the fingers continue their way upwards, tiptoeing across the smooth forehead until they reach the hairline, where my hands depart.

The hair of the Elf is combed back straight, not a single lock of hair falling into his face. So I notice as I trace the hairline to both sides. The hairline itself recedes at the corners. Slightly, yet notably. But already my fingers are moving on, dancing along the sides of Legolas' face, across his temples, across high cheekbones, and further downwards, where they change course and trace the straight line of the jaw to meet the fingers of the other hand in the middle of the softly rounded chin.

The first dance is over. And the second is about to follow without so much as a second of a break. Starting from their meeting point at the chin my fingers are already tracing back the paths they used before, dancing up along the sides of the Elf's face again, along the hairline, and down across the forehead to the bridge of the nose. But this time, they linger there for a second before they stray from their old path and continue their journey to the sides instead.

Legolas' eyebrows form a perfect, fine line of velvety hair. There is no comparison between them and the unruly, bushy brows that I have come across so many times when examining the faces of other men. Smiling, I remind myself that the person I am currently 'looking' at is no mere Man; then I refocus on what my fingertips tell me. Without even thinking, they return to the bridge of Legolas' nose and trace the line of his eyebrows once more in order to take in their shape. The brows of all people are arched; some more, some less. Those of Legolas, however, almost form straight lines, curving ever so slightly at the outer ends. Graceful lines that match the aristocratic shape of his nose perfectly.

When my index and middle fingers have reached the Elf's temples, I let them rest there and let my thumbs take over the silent dance instead. As gentle and skilful as their predecessors, they brush across the velvety skin, beginning at the sides of the nose, tracing the high cheekbones, then describing a semicircle, and finally returning to whence they came, this time taking a path across the tiny hollows just below the cheekbones.

Once my thumbs have reached the sides of Legolas' nose again, they travel downwards until they come to touch his lips. They are so soft, so smooth, just like the rest of his skin. Sighing inwardly, I let my fingers gently run along the thin lips to the corners of the Elf's mouth. They are curved in a slight smile, and I take this as a sign that Legolas does not feel uncomfortable about my touching his face in this more or less intimate manner.

I cannot help but smile as well, more than content with what I have 'seen' so far. Without doubt, the Elf sitting here with me has the most beautiful face that I have ever explored with my fingers.

_That flawless skin, those high cheekbones, the aristocratic shape of his nose and eyebrows..._  
_Yes, those eyebrows. I wonder if Legolas' eyelashes feel like velvet, too._

And yet another thought strikes me. There is something strange about Legolas' features, but I cannot quite put my finger on it. I am not even sure that it is his _features_, to be honest...

Absently, my thumbs have taken up the dance again, now moving across the smooth skin at the Elf's chin in slow circles. After a few seconds, I let my fingers come to a halt.

_Of course! Now I know._

"No stubble."

I am not even aware that I said those two words out loud – not until I hear Legolas chuckle softly. "Aye, you are right, Thalwyn. No stubble. This is because, unlike Men, Elves do not grow a beard."

"Ah, I see." I smile again, ignoring the fact that my cheeks seem to glow with embarrassment. I did not know that Elves do not grow a beard; Aldarida never mentioned this peculiarity. On the other hand, the newly won knowledge encourages me to find out if my sister was right about another thing she _did_ tell me about Elves.

And so my middle fingers leave their places at Legolas' temples, moving in the direction of his ears. As soon as they have found what they were looking for, they trace the upper lines of the delicate shells. I am too excited, too much in awe to notice the slight shudder underneath my hands when either of my middle fingers reaches one pointed tip of the Elf's ears.

_Pointed._  
_Aldarida was right. His ears are pointed._

Fascinated, I let my fingertips run along the upper lines of the ears once more. Back and forth. This time, when my fingers brush across the tips of his ears, Legolas draws in a shuddering breath, a reaction that makes me freeze for the blink of an eye, before I hastily break the touch. I let my hands come to rest in my lap, silently scolding myself for obviously having caused the Elf discomfort.

"I...I am sorry, Legolas," is all I manage to say.


	9. Legolas: Butterfly Touch

Title: A Spark in the Dark 

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

First of all a big 'thank you!' to everyone who has posted reviews. Writing is so much more fun when you know that there are actually people reading your story. ;o)   
I know that I let you wait terribly long for this chapter. My apologies. I just didn't find much time to write in the past few weeks, and I didn't want to post a non-edited first draft.

Okay, so here's chapter 9 – Thalwyn's exploration of Legolas' features from his point of view. Yes, you'll get to know what that 'ear episode' was all about! lol And – just in case anyone was wondering – I'm not going to turn this into a romance...no worries. I'm not good at writing romances anyway. ;o)  
But now on with the story. Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

9 Legolas: Butterfly Touch 

I am not sure what I expected Thalwyn's exploration of my features to be like, but I did certainly not expect it to be that comforting, relaxing even. At first, I can hardly feel the tips of her fingers make contact with my skin, but after a while, Thalwyn's touch gets a bit more confident, more daring, yet it is still soft and tender. And everywhere her fingers move across my skin, they leave a tingling feeling in their wake. All the while the look on her face speaks of concentration, and I wonder what she might be thinking; if she likes what she sees.

_How often have I heard people admiring the beauty of us Elves._  
_But what if Thalwyn's personal definition of beauty is quite different from the common point of view?  
Maybe to her, smooth features like mine are not attractive at all? **Too** smooth to be attractive?_

I smile at the thought that to someone like Thalwyn, who has to use their fingers in order to get to know what another person looks like, the edgy face of an average Man might have a lot more appeal than mine. In fact, that seems quite likely. However, I decide to stop speculating, and instead let myself relax under Thalwyn's velvety touch even more than before, the smile never leaving my lips and my keen eyes locked on the young woman's face as she continues her silent exploration.

I allow myself to have a closer look at Thalwyn. Until now, I have been distracted by Thalwyn's eyes whenever I looked at her. Too distracted to actually pay attention to her features. But now that she is sitting here right in front of me, her eyes closed, and with that comfortable silence spread once more...

I let my eyes roam her face. Without doubt, Thalwyn cannot compete with the beauty of an Elven maiden, but I have to admit that, for a human, she is fairly pretty. Dark brown waves of hair frame her face. Her skin is a shade of light bronze – kissed by the Sun. It is obvious that Thalwyn likes to spend much time out in the open. Tiny freckles decorate her cheeks, her nose, and I can even make out some on her forehead.

_Freckles. A characteristic typical for the race of Man._

They add a bit of playfulness, of liveliness to the face of this young person, who seems to frown ever so often, and whose ghostlike stare I still find difficult to meet.

Thalwyn's fingers now run across my eyebrows...once, twice. When her index and middle fingers have reached my temples, they come to rest there while her thumbs are tracing the line of my lips. Still, concentration is written on Thalwyn's face, but when her fingers reach the corners of my mouth, her lips curve in a light smile. Apparently, she _does_ like what she 'sees' – or at least, she does not seem to be too disappointed. I have to admit that, somehow, I feel relieved.

The young woman's fingers linger at the corners of my mouth for a second before they resume their journey and finally end up moving across my chin in circular motions. The slight wrinkling of Thalwyn's forehead, which I have already witnessed quite a number of times tonight, betrays that she is deep in thought. I wonder what it is this time, but Thalwyn answers my silent question before I can even bring up the subject.

"No stubble," she states matter-of-factly, and I cannot help but chuckle.

"Aye, you are right, Thalwyn. No stubble," I confirm her observation. "This is because, unlike Men, Elves do not grow a beard."

The smile that had left Thalwyn's face for a brief moment, returns; at the same time, a slight blush is creeping upon her cheeks. "Ah, I see." And already her fingers have taken up their task again, now moving in the direction of my ears.

My ears. It dawns on me that, if Thalwyn did not know about the facial hair of Elves – or rather about the lack thereof – she might also be oblivious of the fact that our ears... My train of thought is interrupted by Thalwyn's fingertips brushing softly across the upper rims of my ears. A slight shudder runs through my body, and my eyelids flutter shut.__

_Maybe I should have told her one or the other thing about Elves before I agreed on letting her expl..._

Yet again, my ponderings are cut short when Thalwyn's fingers reach the tips of my ears and return to whence they came – only to make their way to my eartips once more. The touch of the young woman's hands has again become as light as a butterfly's wings brushing across my skin, and I feel a wave of comforting warmth rising within me. It has been quite a while since I have last been touched in this intimate manner, which just increases the effect. And the teasing softness with which Thalwyn's fingers tiptoe along the rims of my ears does not help either.

Finally, when my eartips have once more become the centre of Thalwyn's attention, I cannot keep up my composure any longer and take in a shuddering breath. I hardly notice that the young woman's fingers stop in their motion at once. And only when a muttered apology from Thalwyn reaches my ears do I realise that she has lifted her hands from my ears; that she has broken the silent spell.

I take in another deep breath to fully regain my composure before I open my eyes. And what I see before me makes an odd feeling of guilt well up inside of me. The young woman sitting with me on the bed has her head slightly tilted downwards, mortification written all over her face.

_I could have prevented this, had I told her some things earlier...  
She cannot possibly know what exactly she did?  
And even if this were the case, I could have prevented her touch to have that strong an effect on me. It would just have taken a little concentration on my part. I should simply not have allowed myself to relax that much under her touch..._

"Thalwyn, you do not have to..." I begin. But I never finish that sentence.

"Oh yes, I do have to apologise, Legolas," the young woman states, her voice firm. Then she slightly shakes her head. "I should never have asked you for this favour. I mean, I did not mean to hurt you, but it is fairly obvious that I caused you discomfort."

Now I realise what Thalwyn's apology was about in the first place –

_She must think that she hurt me when she touched my ears._

"Nay, Thalwyn." I gently put my hands on her shoulders to indicate that I am all right; and, most important of all, that I am not angry with her for what she did. "Listen, you did not do anything wrong. It's just that the ears of us Elves are very...sensitive. Your touch did not hurt, though."

"But why then did you sound as if I caused you pain?" she interrupts my explanation, arching a dark eyebrow.

_How the Valar am I supposed to tell her what was the matter without making her feel embarrassed again?_

I heave a sigh of frustration. "Thalwyn, like I said before, elvish ears are very sensitive. And to be honest, it is considered a very intimate thing to..." I stop in mid-sentence as I notice Thalwyn's cheeks taking on an even darker shade of pink than before.

"But I had no idea." Her voice is a faint whisper. 

"I know, Thalwyn. It is all my fault. I should have told you, but I did not think of it when I agreed to your exploring my features. Somehow, I did not realise that it would include my ears. And when you touched them I was simply not...prepared for it."

_I am lucky that Caranhil did not witness the incident.  
He would probably have teased me for ages about it – the son of King Thranduil, heir to the throne of Mirkwood and one of the finest warriors in his father's realm, losing his composure at a mere touch._

I give in to the urge to chuckle, which earns me a quizzical look from Thalwyn. "I would not know what is so funny, Legolas."

"Nothing, Thalwyn." I hold back another chuckle. "I just wondered what my companions would say if I told them about my mistake."

"Or rather _my_ mistake," Thalwyn states coldly, shrouded blue eyes staring right through me.

_She sounds hurt._

"Do not be ridiculous. I already told you that you did nothing wrong. And I meant it." I give her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "But let us not talk about this any longer. I would rather like to hear if I look like you imagined."

Thalwyn's face lights up at this, although her cheeks still seem to glow. "Yes, I think so. You truly are beautiful." A small smile forms on her lips. "In fact, I cannot recall having ever come across more delicate features than yours. You must even be considered fair among your own kind."

"Thank you, Thalwyn. I am very happy to hear that you are not disappointed with what you saw."

Now it is the young woman's turn to chuckle. "How could I be disappointed?"

I am just about to answer – to tell her of my earlier musings about her way of 'seeing' and the smoothness of my features – when Thalwyn stifles a yawn.

"I think you should take some more rest."

Thalwyn answers with a nod. "I guess you are right, Legolas. No matter how much I would like to continue our talk, and no matter how much rest I already got earlier, I feel quite exhausted." She pauses. "What time is it anyway?"

"It must be close to midnight. How about you try to sleep some more and I come to see you again in the morning?" I suggest. "I could show you around Rivendell while the search party is off to find your sister."

The young woman frowns as I mention Aldarida, yet she sounds delighted at the idea of being shown around. "Yes, I would love to see more of this place. But only if that will not interfere with any duties you might have to fulfil..."

"So it is settled, then. I will come to see you in the morning. But before I leave...is there anything you need? Shall I bring you some more water? You seemed to be quite thirsty when we were having dinner..."

"No, thank you, Legolas. I will be fine. All I need right now is some more sleep." She gives me another smile and reaches up to close her fingers around my hands, which are still resting lightly on her shoulders. "You have already done more for me than I could ask for."

When she lets go of my hands again, I get up from the bed. "You are welcome, Thalwyn." With these words, I walk across the room towards the table. I set the remains of our dinner on the tray, from the corner of an eye watching Thalwyn lay down on the bed and slip under the covers. Once the tray is laden, I pick it up and lean across the table in order to blow out the candles. The faint light of the stars shining in through the open window will be more than sufficient for me to find my way to the door of the chamber.

_And Thalwyn will most certainly not mind the relative darkness either._

When I have finally reached the door, I turn to look in the direction of the bed once more. I can easily make out Thalwyn's face against the white sheets. "Sleep well, Thalwyn."

"Good night, Legolas," she whispers back, stifling another yawn.

With a smile on my lips, I leave the chamber, balancing the tray on the palm of one hand as I open and close the door. Then I head down the corridor. 


	10. Thalwyn: Cheerfulness and Tears

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Here's chapter 10, and it's Thalwyn's turn again. It is a bit of a darker chapter again as far as the mood is concerned, but there are some funny parts in it as well, so I don't think it's too depressing. ;o)  
I had originally planned to pick up the pace of this story a bit, but I wasn't satisfied with the outcome at all. As a result, I'm sticking to the slow pace that I've set from the beginning, hoping that you, my dear readers, are not growing sick of it. If you do, don't hesitate to tell me. A propos tell me – to reply to the various comments on the relationship between Thalwyn and Legolas: I'm not sure yet where exactly their blossoming friendship will lead, but I do feel that it will grow into something special. ;o) One last remark before we get on with the story, and that is my thanks to everybody who posted reviews – Nebride, Arwen, Miss2Pouty, Laleanen, gershwin, Trancos. I hope I didn't forget anyone there. Oh, and Blade Swinger, I feel honoured to have got a short note from you as well. You see, writing reviews doesn't hurt...lol  
But now on with the story. Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

10 Thalwyn: Cheerfulness and Tears 

Legolas gets up from the bed and walks over to the table without so much as making any noise. It is the clatter of dishes that tells me where he has gone.

Obeying to the silent plea of my still aching limbs, I slip under the blanket and make myself comfortable in the soft bed while Legolas is occupied with clearing the table. Eventually the clatter stops, and a few moments later the Elf's gentle voice reaches my ears.

"Sleep well, Thalwyn." I am not in the least surprised that he seems to have moved over to the door without my hearing it.

"Good night, Legolas," I manage to reply before a yawn betrays how tired I am.

As silently as I would have expected, Legolas leaves the chamber, only a faint clicking sound of the closing door to be heard. And no matter how much I strain my ears, I cannot hear Legolas walk away; the door blocks any sound his light footsteps might make.

_Do all Elves move that silently?_

I heave a sigh as I lie on my back and let my head sink deeper into the soft pillow, my eyes staring off into the eternal blackness before them. Sleep is trying to claim me, but I fight to keep awake in order to once more recall the latest events of the evening. Inevitably my mind wanders to my exploration of Legolas' face; to that moment of embarrassment when he explained his reaction to my touching his ears. The memory of the utter mortification I felt is irreversibly engraved in my memory, yet my lips curve in a light smirk.

_It was probably just as embarrassing for Legolas to give me an explanation as the whole incident was for me..._

However, the Elf does not seem to feel uncomfortable around me because of what happened. My common sense tells me that, if this were the case, he would most certainly not have offered to come and see me again in the morning. Another sigh leaves my lips as I smile into the darkness, already looking forward to the next day.

_Yes, I will spend another day in the company of an Elf._

Besides, the next day will hopefully bring an answer to the one question still bothering me – the question of what has become of my beloved sister. In an attempt to push my fears further back into a corner of my mind lest they haunt me in my dreams, I take in a deep breath and try to focus on my surroundings. I notice immediately that there has been a change in the smells perfuming the air in this room. One layer of scent has dissolved, vanished – a nuance that reminded me of leaves and fresh bark –, while another layer has added itself to the colourful potpourri. Dominant and unique, the distinct, smoky scent of the blown-out candles is wafting over from the table, carried to me by a soft breath of air.

For a second, I wonder where the lovely smell of the woods has gone, but finally drowsiness is spreading over me like a second blanket, and just a moment later I let sleep cradle me in its tender arms.

~ o ~ o ~ O ~ o ~ o ~

Fresh morning air greets me when I awake. I stretch my limbs to find that they are not aching anymore – well, at least not as badly as the night before. With a yawn, I sit up and move so that my back comes to lean against the headboard of the bed.

_I wonder what time it is?_

The question has just taken shape in my mind when there is a knock at the door, accompanied by the sound of a gentle, female voice. "Thalwyn? Are you awake?"

"Yes. Please come in," I reply, my voice a bit hoarse due to the fact that I have just woken.

"Good morning, Thalwyn," the unfamiliar voice greets me, no longer muffled by the barrier of the door. "I hope you slept well."

I nod in the direction of the voice. "Yes, thank you..." I let my voice trail off, thus giving a hint that I do not know how to address my visitor.

"Oh, where are my manners?" The other person chuckles. "Tathariel. My name is Tathariel. Lord Elrond asked me to bring you some fresh clothes. He also wishes me to help you to get dressed and..."

"Thank you, Tathariel," I interrupt her, giving her a warm smile. "I know you mean well, but I will not need any help."

At this, she chuckles once more, which reminds me of how Legolas managed to lighten up the mood so effortlessly the night before by doing just the same. I wonder if it is in the nature of the Elves – _Tathariel surely must be an Elf as well?_ –, or if this place possesses some secret magic that makes people so cheerful. The whispers of the waters outside, the fresh air...

_It carries the sweet scent of wildflowers again._

I had not noticed when I awoke; which surprises me, for the scent seems even richer than it was the night before.

"Do not worry, Thalwyn," Tathariel's voice interrupts my musings. She has come nearer, and must now stand right beside the bed. "No one intends to treat you like a little child. Lord Elrond is well aware that you are used to getting along without any help, so I ask you to understand his wish as what it is – a gesture of hospitality. Besides, you might find it useful to have someone near who can bring you whatever you may need. This is not a place you are familiar with, after all."

A faint blush creeps up my neck with nimble feet as I realise how impolite and stubborn I must have sounded when I so bluntly refused the offer of help. I feel the need to apologise, but Tathariel is already speaking again in her gentle and melodic voice. "Would you like to take a hot bath, Thalwyn? I am sure it will work wonders on your sore muscles."

I give her another, rather sheepish smile. "A hot bath would be wonderful, thank you."

"All right. I will go and bring some hot water, then. I will be back in a minute."

I have already thought her gone when Tathariel's voice reaches me from somewhere across the room, near the door. "Oh, the dresses," she says, more to herself than actually addressing me. "I had better leave them here." She laughs gently. And then she seems truly gone to fetch the water.

Dresses? I must admit that I am curious. And so, only seconds later, I am out of bed, padding across the stone floor on bare feet. When I assume that the table must be near, I stretch out an arm lest I run into the solid object – or one of the chairs for that matter. One, two more steps, and my hand in fact comes into contact with the backrest of a chair. I pat the seat of the wooden chair. Empty.

With a frown, I feel my way over to the table, and there I find what I was looking for – a small stack of neatly folded clothes. I let the tips of my fingers run across the garment that lies on top. The fabric is soft to the touch, just like the nightgown that I am currently wearing. 

Carefully, I pick up the garment, holding what I believe to be its shoulders close to my body. With a soft rustle, the piece of clothing unfolds itself, and I feel the hem brush against my naked toes. I use my left hand to hold the garment against my body while my right hand wanders all across the silky fabric, trailing the embroidery on the upper front of the dress.

In a far corner of my mind, I register the sound of someone humming, but I pay it no heed. I am far too bewitched by the masterpiece of dressmaking that I have before me. "Beautiful." My voice is a mere whisper.

"Aye, you will surely look beautiful in that dress."

I jump at the unexpected reply. Fortunately, I am not so startled as to let the dress slip from my hands.

"Thalwyn, I am sorry. I thought you had heard me come in." It is Tathariel. She must have been the person that I heard humming. Right now, she stands somewhere behind me.

"It is all right," I assure her. "My mind was just elsewhere."

"So I noticed." I hear Tathariel set something down on the floor, chuckling softy. "May I say that I more or less expected to find you having a look at the dresses on my return?"

Now this raises my full attention. "And what made you think so?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"Well..." She hesitates, but finally goes on, "I heard some of what the Prince told in the Hall of Fire last night, and..."

"The Prince?" I cram my mind for memories of an encounter here in Rivendell with someone of noble blood. Without success. As yet, I have not even met the master of this house. The only person I met in this place the day before was...

"Prince Legolas, Thalwyn," Tathariel enlightens me, putting extra stress to his name. "He is the one that brought you here, and as far as I know you spent the whole evening in his company."

"P...Prince Legolas?" I am not sure if my voice truly shows _how_ puzzled I am.

However, my stuttering earns me a gentle laugh from Tathariel as well as a reassuring touch of her hand on my shoulder. "Aye, Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. So I take it that he missed to introduce himself properly?" Tathariel does not even try to hide her amusement.

"He..." I do not know how to start. "He never mentioned his full name, nor his lineage, at that." As soon as those words have left my lips the incident of last night pops back up in my mind. Much to my dismay.

_I did not touch any one Elf in an inappropriate manner, but a prince! An Elf of noble blood..._

I pray silently for the earth to open up and swallow me. At the same time, I am very grateful for standing with my back to Tathariel. Otherwise, she would inevitably notice the blush that is washing over my face like a fiery flood.

"Never mind," Tathariel says as if she could read my thoughts. "I am sure he just did not want you to get intimidated by his title." 

"Yes, maybe," I answer absently.

Tathariel gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before she lets go of me and starts humming again. I hear her move to the other side of the chamber – the part that I have yet to explore – and apparently even further into an adjacent room. A moment later, the splashing sound of water being poured from a container of some sort reaches my ears.

I try to refocus my attention on the dress that I am still holding in my hands. However, I cannot seem to stop scolding myself silently for what I did last night and – most important of all – for not realising to _whom_ I did it. I heave a sigh and let my fingers run across the soft fabric of the dress one last time before I carefully fold the garment as neatly as my annoyingly uncooperative hands would allow. Then I place it on top of the stack of clothes again.

_Air. I need a breath of fresh air._

With careful steps, I make my way over to the window. I let my hands rest on the stone ledge and take in a deep breath, just as Tathariel announces that she will go and bring some more water. Slightly turning my head, I reply with a nod and a murmur of approval, then I turn toward the window again. A gentle breeze caresses my face, brushing away at least some of the resurrected discomfort.

I cannot say for sure how long I have been standing at the open window when Tathariel approaches me. "Thalwyn? Would you like to take your bath now?"

I let her lead me across the chamber and into the adjacent room. It turns out to be some sort of bathroom, with a stone tub standing in the middle of it; a tub that is huge compared to the wooden tub we have at home. The sweet, yet spicy smell of herbs and flowers rises from the tub, which is filled with invitingly warm water. After Tathariel has shown me around the room and made sure that I know where to find everything I might need for my bath, we both come to stand next to the bathtub.

"And now enjoy your bath, Thalwyn. I will be waiting in the other chamber, so if you need anything, just call for me. All right?"

I nod my approval and mutter a "Thank you," and Tathariel leaves me to myself. Slowly, I pull the nightgown over my head and lay it atop a small stool at the wall behind me. Once I am undressed, I step into the stone tub. I lower myself into the warm water so that I come to sit with my back resting against the warm stone on the inside of the tub. Then I carefully stretch my legs – which would be impossible in the small tub we have at home – and let my elbows rest on the edge of the tub. My muscles are still a bit sore, but the comfortable warmth of the water soon makes me relax. After a while, my hands start fishing for some of the leaves and blossoms that are swimming in the water. When I get to catch a blossom, my fingers lift it to my face, and I take in its scent, absently brushing the soft petals across my cheek.

Eventually my thoughts stray to the reason for my being here in Rivendell, and to the question of what the search party Legolas spoke of will find out. Tathariel has not mentioned it, but I assume that the search party has already set out...

All of a sudden, a rush of guilt washes over me.

_I should not be sitting here, relaxing in a hot bath when I still do not know what happened to Aldarida._  
_I should not have ridden on when I heard her cry; I should have returned to find out myself if she was all right._

But then another, more rational thought crosses my mind.

_How could I probably have found her?  
It is most likely that I would not even have found the way back to the clearing on my own..._

Frustration gnaws at my heart, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I manage to hold them back for a moment, but then a first wet pearl starts making its way down my cheek, and I can finally not keep the salty streams from running any longer. Silent sobs shake my body, and the blossom that I was still holding slips from my fingers, falling into the mix of warm water and tears. 


	11. Thalwyn: Cleansed and Dressed

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Once more, many thanks to everybody who's posted reviews. Here comes another chapter from Thalwyn's point of view. I just felt like she needed another chapter before we turn to Legolas' point of view again, but no worries – there is some Legolas in this chapter as well! lol  
@ Dominique: I wish myself that I could update this story more frequently, for I love writing it; I'll try my best, that's all I can promise. *sighs* Too many things to do, too little time...  
@ Trancos: Thank you for pointing out that you were slightly uncomfortable with Thalwyn's reaction when she got to know that Legolas had been discussing her with Lord Elrond. I must admit that you have a point there; I simply hadn't thought about it, since I found it quite understandable that Legolas talk about Thalwyn with their host. Besides, Thalwyn is quite irritated at first because she cannot recall having met a prince the day before. So she lets her mind drift back, and the 'ear incident' is still fresh in her memory... However, I'm glad you shared your thoughts with me, Trancos. I'll try to keep them in mind as I go on writing. ;o) 

But now on with the story. Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

11 Thalwyn: Cleansed and Dressed 

It takes me a while to calm down again, but I finally manage to keep the tears at bay. I am not even certain what made me cry in the first place – the fact that I still fear the worst as far as my sister is concerned, or the feeling of helplessness that is growing stronger and stronger inside me, feeding off my doubts and fear.

Yes, I feel helpless. And useless. While people that I do not even know, people that I have never met before, have set out to find some answers for me, all I can do is wait. Wait and hope that everything will turn out for the better.

_Thank goodness Legolas promised to keep me company and show me around the place today. It will keep me from brooding too much..._  
**_Prince _**_Legolas_, I correct myself. _But that is just another topic I would rather not think about at the moment..._

With a frown, I reach across the rim of the stone tub in search of the bar of soap that I know Tathariel placed on the small table next to the tub. When I have finally found the soap, I pick it up and busy myself with the ritual of cleansing.

As soon as I am finished with my bath a good while later, the wonderful smell of herbs and flowers clinging to my skin and hair, I step out of the tub and dry myself thoroughly. I am thankful that Tathariel showed me earlier where to find everything – it would have felt odd to be pampered like a little child. With an involuntary smile on my lips, I wrap the soft piece of cloth that I just used to dry myself around my body, and carefully make my way to the door that leads to the bedchamber.

As soon as the door swings open, Tathariel's joyful voice welcomes me, "Ah, Thalwyn, you are finished." Within a second, the Elf stands beside me. "Now let us try which of the dresses that I brought fits you best." She gently lays a hand on my arm and guides me over to the table. 

_Ah yes, the dresses._

"I love the dress that I had a look at earlier," I suggest. "It was beautiful. It felt so soft, and the embroidery on the front..."

"Aye, I know," Tathariel replies. I can almost hear her smile. "But how about this one? This dress would be _my_ favourite..." As she speaks, she holds a gown to my front. "Hmm..." The hint of scepticism in her voice betrays that Tathariel is not fully content with what she sees. "I fear it is a bit too long for you, Thalwyn. Well, how about the dress _you_ liked so much..." She quickly replaces the gown with another one – the dress in question, I assume – and announces her approval. "Yes, this one will fit better. Let me help you try it on."

Only a minute later, Tathariel is occupied with closing the tiny clasps at the back of the gown, all the while enthusing about how perfectly the dress fits me, and how beautiful I look in it. Much too my surprise, it does not make me feel uncomfortable at all to let her help me get dressed. It even seemed to be the most natural thing to stand in front of her naked and let her slip the dress over my head.

_It must be her playful and carefree nature..._

"There you go," Tathariel finally announces, having finished the task of closing the clasps for me. She walks around me and lays her hands on my shoulders. "I know that I am repeating myself, but you look beautiful. Prince Legolas will be speechless when he sees you like this." Tathariel either does not notice the heat spreading all across my face at her last statement, or she chooses not to comment on it, for she goes on in a casual tone, "All you have to do now is fix your hair. Do you want me to help you?"

I raise my hands to gently wrap my fingers around hers. "Thank you, Tathariel, but you will not have to help me with my hair." I give her my warmest smile.

"As you wish. But let me at least bring you a brush." With those words, Tathariel lifts her hands off my shoulders again and leaves me standing at the table. Just a moment later she is back, handing me the promised brush, which I accept gratefully and not without nodding her my thanks.

"So may I leave you alone then, Thalwyn? I am sure that Prince Legolas will come to see you soon." The tone of her voice indicates that she would like to trade places with me.

When she turns to go, I cannot help but ask, "What do you think of the Prince, Tathariel? Does he look good?"

"Does he look good?" She laughs gently before answering my question. "My dear Thalwyn, I dare say that Prince Legolas is maybe the fairest Elf I have ever seen."

_So I was right – he is considered beautiful even among his own kind..._

The affirmation of my thought just causes the blush on my face to deepen. "And what do you think of him as a person, Tathariel?"

"What do I think of him as a person?" Again, the female Elf repeats my question, her voice laced with mild surprise at my sparked-up interest. "I am afraid I do not happen to know Prince Legolas well enough to answer that question, Thalwyn; I have never met him prior to this stay of his here at Rivendell..."

"Never mind." I wave her off, smiling wryly.

Once Tathariel has left me to myself, I sit on the edge of the bed and begin to untangle my damp, wavy hair with the help of the brush, all the while pondering how to address the Prince when he comes to see me. Never before have I met someone of noble blood, and I am not exactly well versed in higher etiquette. To be honest, it is as unfamiliar a territory to me as this place is.

_'Your Highness' – would that be the proper way of addressing him?_  
_Or shall I just call him by his name, like I have before?_

I scold myself silently for not having asked Tathariel when I had the opportunity, while I keep running the brush through my hair; my hands fulfil the task mechanically. I have just more or less finished untangling the masses of sweet scented waves when there is a knock at the door, followed by the call of a familiar voice. "Thalwyn? May I come in?"

I jump to my feet, dropping the brush on the bed in the course of my movement, and smooth down the dress with a few careful strokes. "Yes, please come in."

As usual, I more feel than actually hear the Elf enter the chamber. His voice is cheerful when he bids me good morning.

"Good morning," I reply. Since I have not yet come to a conclusion whether to use his formal title or not, I have decided to avoid addressing the Prince personally if possible.

_Wait a second..._  
_Is it just me, or has the faint smell of fresh leaves and bark returned with his arrival?_

I am almost beginning to question my usually reliable senses when the Elf steps closer and any doubts are swept from my mind. He definitely is the source of the wonderful scent that reminds me of a sunny summer's day in the woods.

The feel of slender fingers gently closing around my upper arms brings me back to reality. There is mirth in Prince Legolas' voice when he asks, "Do my eyes betray me, or is there a new Elven maiden at Rivendell?" After a short pause, in which I can almost feel him take in my appearance, he adds in a more serious tone, "You truly look amazing, Thalwyn. Were it not for your tanned skin and your freckles, you could almost pass for one of our kind."

I know his words to be but a courteous compliment; however, they make my heart flutter with joy. To hear a compliment like that from the lips of an Elf, even if it is a mere expression of politeness, is something I would never have dreamed of.

"Thank you," I reply somewhat shyly, concentrating on the calming fragrance of the woods to keep from blushing. With considerable success.

When Prince Legolas lets go of my arms again, I tilt my head slightly back, reach up, and make a move to part my still damp hair into three thick strands in order to braid it.

Obviously, the Elf realises what I am about to do, for he offers immediately, "Wait, let me help you."

"No!" I cry, at the same time taking a small step backwards, out of his reach, lest he ignore my words. Since I am well aware that my outburst sounded far harsher than intended, I add in a softer tone, "I can do this on my own, thank you. Besides, I cannot let _you_ help me." The last sentence escapes my lips unintentionally.

"What is it, Thalwyn?" Prince Legolas' voice is tinted with puzzlement.

"It is nothing," I lie. "I just prefer to braid my hair myself."

_At least that much is true._

But the Elf would not leave it at that. "I thought you knew that you can trust me, Thalwyn. Please tell me what is wrong." He sounds worried, which makes me wonder if maybe my facial expression is telling him more than I would. "Did the maid that brought you the dress do anything to upset you?"

That question, although uttered with an unmistakable hint of disbelief, makes me shake my head vehemently. "No!" I would not want the Prince to draw any false conclusions. "Tathariel was very kind to me, actually. She prepared a bath for me, helped me with the dress, and...well, she told me who you really are, _Your Highness_."

For a brief moment the room is filled with silence, but then the Prince finally speaks, his voice once more laced with mirth. "You say she told you who I _really_ am?" He lets out a gentle laugh. "I happen to be the son of a king, yes, but that alone does not make me any better or more respectable than any other Elf. When I told you my name and my name only, it was because I wanted you to see me as what I am – someone who wants to help you. It did not occur to me that my official title was of any importance."

My mind is still busy thinking about what he just said when the Elf's hands come to rest on my shoulders and he continues, "Thalwyn, I am still the same person I was yesterday, and I do not wish you to treat me any different than you did before you learned about my lineage. Do you hear me?" He gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze to underline his plea, and I answer with a silent nod.

"All right. I am glad that we managed to sort this out." Legolas does indeed sound relieved. "Now would you like me to help you to braid your hair, Thalwyn?" His hands slide off my shoulders again.

I cannot help but smile, shaking my head. "I appreciate your kind offer, Legolas, but I think I will still do it myself." As I speak I reach up, expertly part my hair into three strands, and start weaving them together. "Prince or not, what would a male Elf know of braiding someone's hair anyway?"

"More than you seem to assume."

I arch an eyebrow at this statement of his, my fingers never interrupting their work at the back of my head.__

_I have yet to meet a man who knows how to do a braid._

Any of the men that I have met so far in my short life had more or less short hair, reaching down to their shoulders, if at all, and most of them did not even seem to be too familiar with the proper use of a brush or comb. At least that was the usual impression I got when they let me have a look at them.

_But those were mere Men._

I recall my exploration of Legolas' face. I have never got to touch his hair; last night it was combed back from his face, and after the incident with his ears I would not ask the Elf to let me have a look at it. However, I could very well imagine Legolas' hair to be as long as mine, thoroughly combed, and held back by slides of some sort; it would suit his fair and elegant features perfectly.

_All right, so maybe he does even know how to do a braid..._

With an inner shrug, I twirl the ends of a few single hairs around the now finished braid lest the woven pattern untangle itself, and give Legolas a satisfied smile.

"May we go then, Thalwyn?" he asks.

I nod as an answer, and the Elf takes my hand to guide it up to his waiting arm. My fingers settle in the crook of his elbow, and I smile as he leads me out of the chamber.


	12. Legolas: Of Noble Blood

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

I'm truly flattered by all the wonderful feedback I got for the last chapter. Thank you so much, everybody! I was especially delighted to be praised by someone who actually knows a blind person. (Yep, Stick, I'm talking about you here...lol) It's very encouraging to know that my portrayal of Thalwyn isn't that unrealistic. ;o)  
@ Violet: Seeing that it'll take me some more chapters to get this fic finished, I'd like to take you up on your offer concerning beta reading. If that the offer is still up, that is. Ah well, I'll write you an email...

Okay, so here's chapter 12 – and it's Legolas' turn again. Yay! lol  
Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

12 Legolas: Of Noble Blood 

The first rays of the Sun are reaching lazily over the ridge of the mountains as a group of six riders is about to leave Rivendell. They are six Elves, among them Caranhil, who will lead the party to the place where we found Thalwyn the day before. From there, they will follow back the tracks of Thalwyn's horse and hopefully find out what has become of her sister.

I am standing in front of Caranhil's horse, my fingers absently caressing its soft muzzle while I watch the riders mount their steeds one after another, all of them armed, of course. Finally, Caranhil swings himself onto his horse's back. With a shake of its head and mane, the mount snorts in anticipation of the ride, its breath becoming visible in the crisp air as a cloud of white fog. My dear friend pats the horse's neck and glances round to make sure that the other members of the search party are ready. He then meets my gaze, and with a slight nod I step aside and stand at the side of the path. With gentle pressure of his heels, Caranhil urges his horse forward, and the other five riders follow his example, one by one riding past me.

I stand on the path that runs alongside the river Bruinen and watch the retreating figures until the clatter of hooves is drowned out by the gurgle of the stream and the riders vanish from my sight. 

"We will soon know who or what attacked my unexpected guest and her sister, Legolas," a low, sombre voice addresses me. 

I turn to find the Master of Rivendell standing but a few yards from me. The face of the tall Elf is difficult to read, yet I imagine to see worry clouding his features; the same kind of worry that washes over me whenever I am reminded of the darkness that threatens to bring all of Middle-earth under its evil spell.

"Lord Elrond." I bow my head slightly to greet him.

The Elven Lord returns the gesture, the hint of a smile now playing around the corners of his mouth. "I would once more like to thank you for keeping Thalwyn company, Legolas. With my other guest still recovering from his injuries, I have not even got the opportunity to bid her a proper welcome."

"It is my pleasure to look after her during her stay," I assure him. "Today, I will show her around the valley. It will help her to while away the time until the search party returns; besides, witnessing the true beauty of this place will make her stay at Rivendell the more memorable for her."

Lord Elrond knows of Thalwyn's obvious admiration of us Elves; last night, when I returned to the Hall of Fire after Thalwyn had gone to sleep again, I told him. For this reason, I am not in the least surprised to read understanding as well as slight amusement in the eyes of the Lord of Imladris as he nods in approval. "So, will you and Thalwyn come to meet me in the Great Hall for breakfast before you show her around? I would very much like to speak with her."

"It will be my pleasure to join you for breakfast, Lord Elrond, as I am sure it will be Thalwyn's." Indeed, I have no doubt that the young woman would like to finally get to know the Master of the Last Homely House.

"I already arranged for a maid to wake Thalwyn and help her get dressed," the Elven Lord informs me. "If you would be so kind as to escort her to the Great Hall when she is ready, Legolas?"

"Of course, I will."

"Well, I shall see you for breakfast, then." Lord Elrond merely bows his head, then he turns and makes for the nearest flight of stairs that leads to one of the several buildings that belong to the Last Homely House.

As he leaves, I turn towards the river to watch the Sun gradually stretch her golden fingers further across the valley, and marvel at the play of colours that is caused by rays of light peeking over the cliff of the nearby waterfall.

_This is something I will not be able to show Thalwyn.  
How can I make her 'see' the beauty of this place at all?_

I heave a sigh and focus my attention on the sound of the waters floating by. I keep listening to the vivid song the river is singing for quite a while before I follow Lord Elrond's example and walk inside.

Meanwhile, the whole house seems to have woken, for there is laughter, chatter, and clatter everywhere. A smile and a song on my lips, I make my way to Thalwyn's chamber, which is located in one of the more silent side-wings of the building, on the upper floor. I mount the stairs taking two steps at a time and absently nod a 'Good morning' to some Elves that are heading in the opposite direction.

When I have finally arrived at Thalwyn's chamber, I stand in front of the door for a brief moment, then I knock. "Thalwyn? May I come in?"

"Yes, please come in," the young woman answers almost at once, and I push open the wooden door.

"Good morning, Thalwyn," I greet her merrily as I step into the room, the melody of the song still filling my mind.

This time, Thalwyn's reply is as hesitant as it is short. "Good morning," is all she says.

I raise an eyebrow at her display of what I would interpret as slight discomfort, but decide not to comment on it. Instead, I close the door and cross the room, taking in Thalwyn's appearance as I walk towards her.

The young woman is standing in front of the bed, dressed in a beautiful long-sleeved gown of elven making. Several layers of light, burgundy fabric float loosely around her legs while the richly embroidered bodice of the dress hugs her upper body, thus accentuating her womanly curves.

_She looks even prettier than last night._

Once I have walked up to her, I gently hold Thalwyn at arm's length in order to have another look at her. With a smile, I ask only half-jokingly, "Do my eyes betray me, or is there a new Elven maiden at Rivendell?" And indeed, with those damp waves of brown hair obscuring her rounded human ears from view, one could almost take her for a She-Elf. Almost. "You truly look amazing, Thalwyn. Were it not for your tanned skin and your freckles, you could almost pass for one of our kind."

Thalwyn thanks me for the compliment. But although her words are accompanied by a shy smile, I notice that there is still an air of uneasiness about the young woman. I am somewhat clueless as to what may be the cause of Thalwyn feeling uncomfortable around me.

_Is she still embarrassed because of what happened last night? I hope not._

In fact, I am quite convinced that something else has caused the subtle change in Thalwyn's behaviour, for everything seemed to be all right when I left her chamber the night before. With an inner shrug, I break the touch and take a small step back, never taking my eyes off the woman's face.

As soon as I have let go of her, Thalwyn tilts back her head and her hands reach up – to braid her hair, I assume. Without even thinking, I ask if I may help her, as it is fairly common among Elves.

The reaction my offer earns me from Thalwyn startles me, to say the least. Crying a word of protest, she backs away from me hastily, almost as if she were afraid of me. I stare at her in disbelief, nearly missing what she says next, "I can do this on my own, thank you. Besides, I cannot let _you_ help me."

Finally, the words register.

_"I cannot let **you** help me."_

Thalwyn's voice was soft when she uttered that sentence, yet the way she stressed the word 'you' made it sound like something that could only be described as a sugar-coated reproach.

_What the Valar...?_

My eyebrows furrow in a frown. "What is it, Thalwyn?"

"It is nothing. I just prefer to braid my hair myself." Her face is blank as she speaks, and her answer does not sound convincing at all.

"I thought you knew that you can trust me, Thalwyn. Please tell me what is wrong," I ask her once more, my mind all the while working furiously.

_Why does she act so strangely around me, so all of a sudden?  
What can possibly have happened since I last saw her?  
What have I done to upset her?  
I promised her to come and see her again in the morning, and here I am..._

Just then, another thought strikes me.

_What if it was not **me** that did something wrong, but the only other person in this house that Thalwyn has met so far – the maid that Lord Elrond said he sent earlier to Thalwyn's assistance?_

To be honest, I highly doubt my own theory. But since I cannot think of any other explanation for Thalwyn's odd behaviour, I have no choice but to ask her. "Did the maid that brought you the dress do anything to upset you?"

At this, Thalwyn immediately shakes her head. "No!" She sounds as determined as some minutes ago, when she refused my offer of help. "Tathariel was very kind to me, actually. She prepared a bath for me, helped me with the dress, and...well, she told me who you really are, _Your Highness_."

It takes a second for the last sentence to sink in – especially the last two words. But then I comprehend what is going on.

_So she got to know that I am a prince, and now she is holding a grudge against me because I did not tell her of my lineage earlier._  
_And maybe she is even intimidated by my title._

I am relieved and amused at the same time; relieved to know why Thalwyn is acting so strangely, and amused above all because of her choice of words. "You say she told you who I _really_ am?" I cannot help but laugh gently. Then I try to find the right words to make her see that she has already got to know the 'real' me; that there is no reason for her to feel intimidated by my formal title.

"I happen to be the son of a king, yes," I start, "but that alone does not make me any better or more respectable than any other Elf. When I told you my name and my name only, it was because I wanted you to see me as what I am – someone who wants to help you. It did not occur to me that my official title was of any importance."

Thalwyn is still standing in front of me, motionless. Uncertain whether she has truly listened to what I just said, I tentatively lay my hands on her shoulders. The young woman does neither flinch, nor does she try to avoid the touch, which I take as a good sign. "Thalwyn, I am still the same person I was yesterday, and I do not wish you to treat me any different than you did before you learned about my lineage. Do you hear me?"

It is not until I lightly squeeze her shoulders that I finally get a response from Thalwyn. She nods, apparently lost for words.

I feel another wave of relief wash over me. "All right. I am glad that we managed to sort this out. Now would you like me to help you to braid your hair, Thalwyn?" I let go of her shoulders again and reach for the brush that is lying on the bed.

But still, Thalwyn would not let me help her. This time, she has a smile on her lips, though, when says, "I appreciate your kind offer, Legolas, but I think I will still do it myself."

I accept her choice with a silent shrug and watch her skilled fingers go to work. There is the hint of a smirk on Thalwyn's face when she asks, "Prince or not, what would a male Elf know of braiding someone's hair anyway?"

From the tone of her voice I can tell that the question was meant more or less rhetorically, which makes my lips curve in a smirk as well. "More than you seem to assume," I state without further explanation.

The quizzical – or rather sceptical – look that the young woman gives me in return confirms my assumption that she knows little, if anything, about Elvish customs as far as hairstyles are concerned. Which does not exactly surprise me, to be honest. Taken into account that Thalwyn is blind and that I am the first Elf she has ever met, how could she probably know unless someone told her?

_For even when I let her explore my features, all she got to touch were my face and ears.  
So maybe she has not even noticed that my hair is as long as hers._

Tucking one of my smaller braids behind my ear, I focus my attention back on Thalwyn. Meanwhile, she has finished weaving her hair into the same kind of single, thick braid she wore when we found her. She smiles at me contently, and I ask, "May we go then, Thalwyn?"

When she gives me a silent nod as a reply, I close the short distance between us and reach for her hand, placing it at the crook of my elbow. Thalwyn's fingers gingerly curl around my arm, and together we make for the Great Hall.


	13. Thalwyn: Step by Step

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Announcement of the day: I've got a beta reader now. Woo-hoo! lol Many thanks for your help, Violet. :o)  
Besides, special thanks to Molly for writing me two very encouraging emails and giving me very useful hints that I'll hopefully make good use of.

But now on to chapter 13. Legolas leads Thalwyn from her room...step by step.  
Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

13 Thalwyn: Step by Step 

When Legolas and I step out of the chamber, a faint babble of voices reaches my ears, carrying over from a distance. I can tell from the sound that we must be standing in some kind of corridor now; quite a long corridor, but not very broad, as it seems. The floor is cool and its surface smooth, just like in my room, so I conclude that it must be polished stone as well. It is now that I realise my feet are still bare.

_Either Tathariel forgot to bring me some shoes, or it is common among the Elves to walk barefoot._

Either way, I do not mind going barefoot on a mild day like this; quite the contrary. It helps me to learn more about the ground I walk on; to get a more detailed impression of my surroundings.

"This way, Thalwyn." With a soft tug of his arm, Legolas signals me to turn left and then leads me along the corridor.

Were it Aldarida who was acting as my guide now – or some other person that I have known long and well enough –, I would probably stretch out an arm and touch the wall of the corridor as I walk in order to find out how broad or narrow the passage is exactly. With Legolas as my guide, though, I think it better to concentrate on my steps, neither of my hands leaving the crook of his elbow.

I have no doubt that he will do his best to show me around safely; what I do still doubt, however, is that the Elven prince has any experience in guiding a blind person. I cannot deny that he seems to instinctively know what to do – the way he helped me at dinner the night before and the fact that he offered me his arm to hold onto without my asking for it are good proof. Nevertheless, I am yet to be convinced that the Elf's common sense will be a trustworthy substitute for his lack of experience with this kind of affair. Of course, I could give him some general advice as far as guiding me is concerned, but I have to admit that a part of me is still impressed with Legolas' formal title. In other words, I am somewhat reluctant to tell the son of a king what to do – unless he should ask me for advice, that is.

_Well, maybe he will not need any hints anyway..._

As if on clue, Legolas slows down his steps until we come to a halt. Before I can even ask what is the matter, he lays his free hand on top of mine and explains, "There is a flight of stairs ahead, Thalwyn. They are not very steep, and the steps are fairly broad."

I note that the Elf has not told me whether the stairs lead up or down, or where exactly they begin, but I may still ask him before we begin our descent. And there is yet another thing that I take note of: Legolas did not only realise the necessity of telling me about the stairs, but he pointed out some details about the stairs as well.

_The information he gave me will indeed be helpful._

When I give Legolas a reassuring smile, he goes on, "Well, the head of the stairs is about one step from here."

_That is exactly the kind of additional information I would otherwise have asked for._  
_The Elf proves to be a better guide than I would have assumed._

"All right. So what are we waiting for?" I ask and take a careful step, my toes feeling for the edge of the landing in front of me, and finding it almost at once.

_Now the first step down..._

My grip at Legolas' arms tightens unconsciously. It is the reassuring squeeze the Elf's own fingers are giving in response that makes me aware of it. If I had a white cane with me, or some other sort of long stick, I could easily verify Legolas' description of the stairs; I would not even need any verbal description of them. But that is not the case, and so I have no choice but to rely on what my guide has told me.

_According to Legolas, the single steps are fairly broad..._

"Trust me, Thalwyn," the Elf's soothing whisper reaches my ears as if he could read my mind.

With a small nod, I brace myself and finally take another step forward, my foot reaching down tentatively until it comes into contact with the solid surface of the first step. True to the word of the Elven prince, the step is broad enough for my whole foot to settle on it securely; my toes barely reach the edge.

I take the next step just as cautiously, still holding onto Legolas' arm with both of my hands, even though my grip has loosened a bit. Another couple of steps later, I stride down the stairs next to my Elven guide with as much confidence as could be expected of me in these unfamiliar surroundings. Rather than worrying if I will make it down these stairs safe, I am now occupied with counting the steps.

We have reached the sixteenth step from the top when Legolas finally announces, "Just two more steps, Thalwyn."

And only a moment later, I find myself on level ground again – and my initial doubt replaced by a newfound trust in my noble guide. "Well, that went well." I give a small, contented sigh. "You make a good guide, Legolas. Thank you."

"It is my pleasure." I can almost hear him smile. "Well, shall we go on, then?"

I nod and let Legolas lead me away from the stairs. When a soft breeze brushes across my face, I conclude that there must be openings in the wall to my left; quite large openings, to tell from the constant breath of air that I feel now floating along the passage.

_Maybe there is not even a wall at that side of the passage any longer, but the roof is supported by pillars only._  
_'Arcade' would be the correct term to describe such a construction, if I am not mistaken..._

Anyway, I focus my attention on the babble of voices that I had already noted earlier. It has become notably louder and is still increasing in volume as we walk on. I cannot help but wonder how many people live in this place, and if all of them are Elves.

_I would guess so._

Just then the faint neigh of a horse carries over from a distance, and another thought crosses my mind, causing me to stop in my tracks. "Liorin."

_Where is my horse? Was she brought here as well?  
And how is she? She must have been no less exhausted than I was when Legolas and his companions found us..._

"Liorin?" Legolas asks. He has come to a halt beside me.

"My horse," I explain, turning my head toward him as I speak. "I have to see if she is all right." A feeling of guilt wells up inside me for not having thought of my trusted mount earlier.

"Your horse is fine, Thalwyn," the Elf assures me. "I will take you to her later, if you like."

_I would rather pay her a visit right now..._

The expression on my face must have given away what I was thinking, for I hear Legolas chuckle. "There is no need to worry, Thalwyn. Your horse is all right, believe me." Once more, his one hand comes to lay on top of mine in a calming gesture. He then adds, "At least she was about an hour ago."

"You...you have been looking after her?" My voice is laced with mild surprise.

"Well, I got up just before sunrise and accompanied my friend Caranhil to the stables. He is the leader of the search party, and they set out on their mission about an hour ago. Your horse was happily munching on some hay when I left the stables. She is being well cared for by the stable hands." He pauses before he goes on, "I promise to show you to the stables later so that you may convince yourself of your horse's well-being personally. Agreed?"

All of a sudden, I feel quite foolish.

_As far as I know, the Elves have great respect for all living things.  
So how could I even get the idea that my horse might have been left behind?  
How could I doubt that she was being treated with the same hospitality and care that I am experiencing in this place?_

My face lightens up again, and I nod in approval. "Agreed. We will have a look at the stables later."

With a light pat of my hand, Legolas resumes walking, and I follow his example, still holding on to his arm. I now realise that the Elf has not even told me yet where we are going, and decide to ask. "Legolas, where are you leading me anyway?"

"To the Great Hall," he replies. "Lord Elrond is expecting us for breakfast."

"Lord...Lord Elrond?" Legolas mentioned the name earlier. He said that this was Lord Elrond's house, if I recall correctly.

"Aye, Thalwyn. The Master of Rivendell would like to finally bid you his proper welcome. When we brought you here, Lord Elrond checked personally if you were injured and needed any kind of medical care. But you were not responsive then, and other affairs have demanded all of his attention since."

_So I will meet my generous host in a few minutes..._

Already my mind starts spinning as I try to think of the right words to express my endless gratitude to him.

"Thalwyn?" Legolas' concerned voice interrupts my thoughts. "Thalwyn? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes." The words come across my lips far too hastily to sound really convincing.

Once again, Legolas' fingers gingerly close around mine as he speaks, "There is no need to be nervous, Thalwyn. Everything will be fine. Just be yourself."

A wary smile is all I manage to give as a reply, my mind still working furiously.

All the while, we have continued walking, and the babble of voices sounds very near now. However, it is still muffled by the barrier of a wall or door. Finally, Legolas makes me come to a halt next to him. "Well, here we are," he announces, "standing right in front of the door that leads to the Great Hall. Are you ready to go in?"

This may sound strange, but the fact that I hear merry chatter rather than reverential silence on the other side of the door has a soothing effect on my fluttering nerves. Even though there appear to be quite a number of people assembled in the Great Hall and it is more than likely that I do not know any of them.

However, I am surprised myself at the calmness of my voice when I answer Legolas' question. "Yes, let us not keep Lord Elrond waiting any longer."


	14. Legolas: To the Great Hall

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

I'm terribly, terribly sorry for not updating any earlier. My sincerest apologies. Life has been very hectic lately (with lots of extra workload that could not be foreseen), and so I just didn't find the time to write at all for a while. But I'm back with a new chapter, and I'll try to at least update every two weeks despite my still packed schedule. I can't thank all of you enough for your patience, and for all the wonderful reviews I've been getting. :o) Oh, and once more many thanks to Violet for being a great beta reader. ;o)

Well, but now I'll shut up and 'feed' you the new chapter, 'To the Great Hall'.  
Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

14 Legolas: To the Great Hall 

Neither of us says a word as I lead Thalwyn along the corridor. I am far too occupied with pondering how to make her grasp the full beauty of Rivendell. At the same time, I keep my eyes watching ahead – lest I overlook anything that might turn out to be an obstacle for the blind woman at my side.

_What does she perceive of her surroundings as we walk?_  
_Shall I describe everything to her? Tell her what this corridor looks like?_

Letting my gaze stray over to her for a brief moment, I decide against it. I am convinced that Thalwyn would ask me for it if she wanted me to give her any descriptions. Besides, the small wrinkle on her forehead indicates that she is either too lost in thought to listen, or that all of her concentration is focused on the unknown path ahead of her anyway. To tell from the way the young woman holds on to my elbow with both of her hands, I would assume that the latter is the case.

_It must be an odd feeling to fully rely on a stranger._  
_Which is what I am to her, a mere stranger._

We walk on in comfortable silence until we approach the stairs that lead down to the ground floor and I decide to stop for a moment. It is more than obvious that this _is_ the moment to give Thalwyn some information about our surroundings without her asking for it.

As the young woman follows my example and comes to stand next to me, I tell her of the stairs in front of us. "They are not very steep, and the steps are fairly broad," I add some more detail, hoping that this kind of description will be of use for her. When I finally tell Thalwyn that the stairs are only one step ahead, I seem to have provided her with all the information she might need.

"All right," she says. "So what are we waiting for?" With that, one of her bare feet reaches forward searchingly, and finally she comes to stand at the head of the stairs.

But despite the smile on Thalwyn's lips I feel her tense, holding on to my arm more firmly than before.

_It must cost her quite an effort to make the first step down._

My own fingers close around hers on their own account. "Trust me, Thalwyn," I try to encourage her to start the descent.

And indeed, giving me a hint of a nod, the young woman feels for the first step. She moves with great care, using my arm for support as she balances her weight on one slightly bent leg. When her outstretched foot settles on the step below, however, she does not hesitate to fully shift her weight onto it and continue descending the stairs.

All the way down, I never leave Thalwyn's side, prepared to catch her should she stumble. Not that I expect it to happen, for we have not even made it half way down the stairs when the young woman takes step after step with a confidence that surprises me. Any tension seems to have left her body, and her hands now rest on my arm in a more or less relaxed fashion.

Once we have reached the foot of the stairs – which, of course, I had pointed out to Thalwyn in time – we come to a brief halt again.

"Well, that went well," the woman states, her voice laced with relief. "You make a good guide, Legolas. Thank you."

"It is my pleasure," I reply with a smile before I suggest going on.

When Thalwyn nods her approval, we resume walking in silence, now along a half-open passage overlooking the banks of the river Bruinen.

Once more my thoughts stray to my promise to show Thalwyn around Imladris, when all of a sudden the woman at my side freezes. She whispers something that sounds like a name to me, but since my mind has been elsewhere, I am not sure that I heard right – even with the gift of Elvish hearing. So I decide to ask.

"Liorin?" I repeat what I believe she said.

It seems that my ears did not play me a trick, for Thalwyn does not correct me but answers, "My horse. I have to see if she is all right."

"Your horse is fine, Thalwyn," I try to calm her. "I will take you to her later, if you like."

Anyway, the wish to visit her horse sooner rather than later is written all over the young woman's face. I cannot help but smile as that expression stirs a memory of one of my childhood days within me. 

_That day when I overheard one of our stable hands saying that Mithlos had picked a fight with another horse – Mithlos, the first horse I had been allowed to call mine..._  
_Although I overheard as well that my horse was all right, I felt the urge to run to the stables at once. And I **would** have, had it not been for Father insisting that I join everybody else at dinner first..._

With a soft chuckle, I refocus my attention to the here and now; to Thalwyn. The expression on her face has not changed.

_I must have looked the same that day, so many centuries ago._

"There is no need to worry, Thalwyn," I try again. "Your horse is all right, believe me." Suspecting that this will not be enough to convince her, I add, "At least she was about an hour ago."

"You...you have been looking after her?"

I tell Thalwyn that I went down to the stables with the members of the search party earlier this morning, and assure her that her horse is in good hands there. When I suggest showing her to the stables later, the expression of worry finally leaves the woman's face.

"Agreed." She gives me a slight nod. "We will have a look at the stables later."

We have just resumed walking in the direction of the Great Hall, when Thalwyn asks, "Legolas, where are you leading me anyway?"

_Just when I thought she would never ask..._

"To the Great Hall," I reply. "Lord Elrond is expecting us for breakfast."

"Lord...Lord Elrond?" A mixture of surprise and excitement flits across Thalwyn's features.

"Aye, Thalwyn. The Master of Rivendell would like to finally bid you his proper welcome."

The colour seems to drain from Thalwyn's face as I go on explaining that – when she was unconscious – Lord Elrond had convinced himself personally that she was not severely injured. I also notice that the grip of the young woman's hand on my arm tightens again.

"Thalwyn?" No reaction. "Thalwyn? Is everything all right?"

It takes a moment for her to reply, "Yes, yes." Her voice betrays her, however; and her grip on my arm remains tight as before.

_Is it yet again the mentioning of a formal title that makes her uneasy?_

Clueless as to what else to do, I bring my free hand up and gently envelop that of the young woman. "There is no need to be nervous, Thalwyn. Everything will be fine. Just be yourself."

She gives me a weak smile that allows a hint of insecurity to shine through, yet she does not make any move not to walk on with me.

Before long we have reached the Great Hall, and I stop in front of the double-winged oaken door. We have not met anyone on our way here, so I assume that everyone else has already assembled inside. The lively mix of different tongues and voices that reach us through the heavy wood confirms my assumption.

"Well, here we are, standing right in front of the door that leads to the Great Hall. Are you ready to go in?" My eyes keep studying Thalwyn's face as I wait for her reply.

"Yes, let us not keep Lord Elrond waiting any longer." Astonishingly, there is not the slightest trace of nervousness left in her voice.

With a last reassuring squeeze I let go of her hand, then I push open the heavy oak door and lead Thalwyn into the Hall. Once we have entered, I spot Lord Elrond sitting at one of the tables at the back of the room. His daughter and sons are sitting to his right, while the two chairs to his left are unoccupied.

As soon as the Lord of Imladris has taken notice of us, a smile graces his solemn features, and he beckons to us.

"Lord Elrond would like us to sit with him," I let Thalwyn know, keeping my voice low. "I suggest we walk over to his table."

As we cross the large room, I nod the occasional 'Good Morning' to people looking up from their morning meals. However, most of the assembled crowd are too engrossed in conversation to pay us much attention.

When we finally reach his table, Lord Elrond stands and turns toward us. "Welcome to Rivendell, Thalwyn." The tall Elf takes a step forward and reaches out to cup her shoulder with one slender hand.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Thalwyn's one hand is still resting in the crook of my arm, but the other grabs for the skirt of her dress, and the young woman makes a move to curtsey.

The Lord of Rivendell, though, has already gingerly closed both his hands around her upper arms to prevent her from performing the gesture. "Do not curtsey before me, Thalwyn," he says, mirth showing through in his voice, "It is not customary in these Halls."

A faint blush creeps onto Thalwyn's cheeks and she gives an embarrassed smile.

"But please – Thalwyn, Legolas, have a seat." Lord Elrond takes a step back again, letting go of Thalwyn in the process.

I pull out the nearest chair, which happens to be the one next to Lord Elrond's. "Would you like to take this one, Thalwyn?"

"Yes, thank you." She reaches for the backrest of the chair, almost finding it at once. The low, scraping sound of the wooden legs sliding across the floor must have given her a clue – just as I had intended. Once her fingers are resting on the upper rim of the backrest, Thalwyn's other hand leaves the crook of my arm. It stretches out in the direction of the table as the woman makes her way around the chair.

It is obvious that she does not need my help, and I scold myself silently for staring so bluntly at her performing such a simple task as taking a seat. And so I let my gaze stray over to Lord Elrond's children, mirroring their gesture when they bend their heads in a silent greeting.

As soon as Thalwyn has settled at the table, Lord Elrond reclaims the seat to her right, and then I finally pull out my own chair and sit down to the woman's left. And already an Elven maiden walks up to our table in order to fill the cups in front of us with fresh water. Another maiden is following at her heels, holding out a bowl filled with fruit to me, which I accept with a courteous nod.

I pick some fruit from the bowl in my hands and place it on my plate. From the corner of an eye I notice how Thalwyn's fingers begin to explore the space right in front of her – to feel for the plate and cutlery – while she speaks to Lord Elrond.

_Apparently, she has come over her nervousness all right..._

I wait for Thalwyn to finish her sentence before I address her, "Some fruit, Thalwyn?"

She turns her head toward me, smiling. "Yes, please."

I hand the bowl to her to let her choose herself. The young woman's fingers carefully examine its contents and eventually pick some grapes from the dish. Then she turns to resume her talk with the Elf Lord to her right, passing the bowl on to him. I watch the exchange with a pleased smile before I turn my attention toward the food on my plate.


	15. Thalwyn: Meeting the Host

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

A big 'Thank you!' to my dear beta reader Violet as well as to all my readers. You are great! :o)  
@ mysticmoon: I chose to stick with British English in my writing, hence 'apologise' rather than 'apologize' (which is the American English spelling of the word). ;o)  
@ PuterPatty (and everybody else who might have commented on this before): I'm overjoyed to hear that you like the way I write Legolas' voice. As I'm sure I've mentioned once or twice, I hate writing dialogue, so I'm extremely happy if you say he sounds true to his character and 'elfy'. I just love that expression! lol  
@ bchan: Do you think that it is pity Legolas feels for Thalwyn? Hmm...I'm not too sure about that. Like THEwriter Lioness remarked in her last review, he _does_ realise that she is capable of getting along without much help. Ah well, but I guess we'll come back to that later on in the story anyway. ;o)

But now on with the new chapter; Thalwyn is 'Meeting the Host'.  
Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

15 Thalwyn: Meeting the Host 

As soon as I confirm that I am ready to go in, Legolas opens the door to the Great Hall. As I had silently hoped, hardly anybody appears to take notice of our entrance, for the merry talk and chatter does not stop when we step into the Great Hall.

_It must be a large room indeed, to tell from the acoustics._

"Lord Elrond would like us to sit with him." Legolas' voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks to me. "I suggest we walk over to his table."

And so I let him lead me across the room, past groups of people talking in lively conversation. I do not intentionally try to pick up anything of what is being said, but I notice that some of the people we walk past speak in the same melodious tongue I heard Legolas and his companions use. Elvish. Others use the Common Tongue, while yet another group of people speak in a language I have never heard before. It is a language that fits their voices – gruff and grim; almost...terrifying.

I am just beginning to wonder what strange folk is assembled in this Hall, when Legolas and I  come to a halt. Right in front of us, a chair slides across the floor with a faint creaking sound, and then a soft voice addresses me.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Thalwyn." The words are accompanied by a faint rustling of clothes and a hand gently settling on my shoulder.

"Thank you, Your Highness." I reply, assuming that it is Lord Elrond who is speaking to me. Recalling what little I know about etiquette, I lift the skirt of my dress in order to curtsey – only to find two strong hands holding me upright at my upper arms.

"Do not curtsey before me, Thalwyn. It is not customary in these Halls." I can feel a rush of heat sneaking up my neck at Lord Elrond's words, but already the Elf Lord goes on, "But please – Thalwyn, Legolas, have a seat."

Legolas offers a chair to me, letting it scrape across the floor as he pulls it toward me, which helps me to locate it. I am positive that this was exactly his intention. With an inner smile, I walk around the wooden stool and take a seat.

As soon as I have settled at the table, Lord Elrond, who has taken a seat to my right, speaks to me again. "I hope your accommodations are to your liking, Thalwyn."

I can hardly suppress the urge to laugh.

_To my liking? Now that is quite an understatement..._

"It is, Your Highness. I dare say that have never slept in a more comfortable bed before." As I speak, my fingers start exploring the table in front of me in a well-studied dance.

_Plate, fork, knife..._

I heave a small sigh, then I go on, "How can I ever thank you? For everything – for taking me in, as well as for sending out the search party..."

"You are welcome, Thalwyn," my gracious host replies. "You seemed to be in dire need of help, so help is what I offered."

"For which I am very grateful. Thank you, Lord Elrond. I have never experienced such hospitality and kindness before."

I have just finished my last sentence, when Legolas draws my attention to him by offering a bowl of fruit to me. I pick some grapes from the wooden dish, then pass it on to Lord Elrond without even thinking. Too deep-rooted is the habit. Besides, the air of calmness that the Elf Lord seems to radiate has made me forget about my initial nervousness as soon as he first spoke to me.

**_Besides_**_, even elven Lords have to eat, do they not?_

And already Lord Elrond has accepted the bowl from my hands. "As you probably know, Thalwyn, Legolas has already told me what brought you near Rivendell as well as some things about yourself," he resumes our talk.

I simply nod to confirm his assumption. Legolas did not explicitly mention it to me, but I figured that he would pass on to my host what I told him.

"Would you mind if I asked you to tell me some more about yourself, then?" Lord Elrond continues, the tone of his voice making clear that he would understand if I objected.

"Of course not, Your Highness." I give an honest smile. "What is it that you would like to know?" I pick one of the grapes from my plate and begin to eat while I wait for my host to ask his first question.

"Tell me, Thalwyn, where did you learn to ride so well?" he inquires. "I hope you will not think me impolite when I say this, but I find it remarkable that a blind woman would take up riding."

My lips curve in a smile again at his careful choice of words. "We have always had horses, for work in the fields as well as occasionally pulling a cart, and I have always loved those gentle and charming creatures. I have never thought of taking up riding, though – not until Aldarida came to stay with us. She is a keen rider and insisted on teaching me...much to the dismay of my father." I cannot help but chuckle at the memory of my father trying to come up with plausible arguments against my learning how to ride.

"So your father eventually gave in?"

"Aye, he did. Though he watched my first riding lessons carefully. Whether he was more worried that our workhorses would throw me off or that they would run off with me, I cannot say for sure." Once more, a gentle laugh escapes me. "However, our horses seemed to enjoy the change from their dull daily work, and so the few times I did fall off a horse, it was my own fault entirely."

This even ensues a soft laugh from the Elf Lord at my side. "And apparently, those mishaps did not dishearten you..."

"Nay, quite the contrary." I shake my head, still smiling broadly. "Once Aldarida had convinced me that I could do it, I was determined not to disappoint her. Or my father, for that matter."

"From what I hear, he seems to be a very caring man," Lord Elrond remarks.

"Oh yes, he is – caring without being overly protective; I could not think of having a better father." And I mean it.

"I am convinced of that." I can almost hear the Elf Lord smile. After a short pause, in which I resume eating, he goes on, "Speaking of your father, Thalwyn...I have no doubt that he would like to see you return home soon."

_Oh, so he wants me to leave..._

The thought has barely taken shape in my mind when Lord Elrond continues, "Your horse is quite exhausted from your long and hard ride, though, so I suggest you stay until both you and your mare have recovered. For it will be a long ride back."

"Thank you, Your Highness," is all I manage to reply, my heart singing with joy at the thought of staying in this magical place for another day or two.

_Although I would love to return home just as much. Father must be sick with worry..._

"Do not worry about your father." Lord Elrond seems to have read my mind. "The party that I sent out will not only try to find out what has become of your sister, but also inform your father of what has happened, and that you are well and safe."

"But...but how?" I retort, baffled. "They do not even know where we live."

There is a slight hint of amusement in the voice of my host when he replies, "Rest assured that they will find your home. Would you not think that the men I sent to find signs of your sister's whereabouts will be capable of tracing back your horses' tracks to your home as well?"

It is hard to tell when I last felt that silly. "Oh, of course. I have no doubt that they will."

"But let us talk of more pleasant things," Lord Elrond quickly changes the subject. "Here, have you ever tasted elvish bread?" With those words, he carefully places a woven basket in my hand.

I accept the basket with a 'Thank you' and fish a slice of soft bread out of it. The bread is fresh, still slightly warm and smelling delicious. Once I have placed the slice on my plate, I turn to my left in order to pass the basket on to Legolas.

"Would you like some bread, Legolas?" I address him, not sure whether he is looking in my direction, since I have not heard a word from him for the past few minutes.

"Yes, thank you, Thalwyn," is all he says as he gingerly takes the breadbasket from my hands.

I wonder if he has been listening to my talk with Lord Elrond at all.

_But if he had, he would surely have made one or the other comment, would he not?_

Granted, I hardly know anything about the elven Prince, but he seems to be uncharacteristically silent during this morning meal.

_I can hardly imagine that he refrains from joining the conversation out of mere politeness..._

However, my ponderings are cut short by the Elf Lord to my right attracting my attention once more. "You should try some of these with the bread," he suggests, holding out yet another dish to me, which I accept gratefully.

And soon I find myself engrossed in another talk with my host while bowl after bowl of the most delicious dishes are being passed to and fro.


	16. Legolas: Distractions

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

First of all, I hope that all of you had a wonderful Christmas. And my best wishes for 2003 to my dear readers; I know that I'm repeating myself, but you guys are great! Again and again, I'm overwhelmed by the wonderful reviews I get. :o)

@ PuterPatty: So you think that there are Dwarves in the Hall? Hmm...well, we'll see in the following chapter if you're right with that. ;o)  
@ Nebride: As for Thalwyn's determination to learn how to ride – I've got nooo idea whom that might remind you of! lol If Elrond will know how to 'cure' Thalwyn's blindness – who knows? *shrugs*  
@ Meethrill (or should I say Carrie and Shelly) + Kyesha: I'm flattered to hear yet again that I'm doing all right with my attempts at imagining how a blind person would act and what she would perceive of her surroundings. As for the section where Thalwyn awakes, I wasn't sure what a blind person's dreams would be like (although I assumed that they would not dream 'in pictures'), so I decidedly kept that part vague. ;o)

But now on to the question what it was that seemed to distract Legolas during breakfast. *grins*  
Enjoy!  


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**A Spark in the Dark**

16 Legolas: Distractions 

I pick up an apple from my plate and take the occasional bite as I listen to the relaxed talk between Thalwyn and the Master of the house. I refrain from joining the conversation, however. Mostly because it would not be polite, but I have never been an Elf of many words anyway. And so I am quite grateful that Thalwyn has found someone else to speak with; and that I can just enjoy my meal and listen for a while.

The young woman tells of how her sister encouraged her to take up riding, and of her first riding lessons. All the while, her voice is filled with a joy that seems to mirror the excitement she must have felt back then. I share an amused smile with the Elf Lord sitting to the other side of Thalwyn. And when the young woman mentions falling off her horse one or the other time, but in the same breath insists that it has always been her own fault entirely, our host even lets out a soft laugh.

As the two of them go on talking about Thalwyn's father, I let my gaze stray across the room. Aside from the Rivendell Elves, quite a number of guests are grouped around the wooden tables in the Hall – some of my brethren from Mirkwood as well as several Men, Hobbits, and other folk. Most of the people I see, I already met in the Hall of Fire last night. However, I find my eyes locking on a group of strangers that I have purposefully not paid much attention to so far – Dwarves.

As if on clue, one of the long-bearded creatures looks up from the table and in my direction. The expression on the furred face quickly turns into a scowl as our gazes meet, but of course, I am well aware that my own expression is not exactly speaking of sympathy either. It is no secret that Elves harbour a certain dislike toward Dwarves – and vice versa. And to tell from the legendary 'visit' of a group of this short folk in my father's realm some seventy-seven years ago, a certain amount of distrust – at least from the side of us Elves – is indeed quite justified, if you ask me.

_Dwarves._  
_They are filthy, greedy creatures. Digging in the earth, robbing her of her riches without giving anything in return..._

If even possible, the frown on my face deepens.

_I am well aware that these are dark times. But the danger creeping forward from the East must be even greater than I thought, if the Master of Imladris invites Dwarves to a council in his fair home._

Roaring laughter wafts over from the table the group of Dwarves is seated at, and the one that has been looking at me averts his eyes again. _His_ eyes? Well, at least I _assume_ that it is a male Dwarf.

_But who can tell the difference between a male and a female Dwarf anyway?_

From what I have been told, female Dwarves are fairly hard to distinguish from their male counterparts, growing just as much facial hair and being of the same short and sturdy built.

_And that is already more than I needed to know, for I do not intend to have more dealings with Dwarves than should be absolutely necessary._

"Would you like some bread, Legolas?" Thalwyn's voice cuts into my train of thought. The young woman is holding out a breadbasket to me.

"Yes, thank you, Thalwyn." I accept the proffered basket and pick a soft slice of spiced bread from it before setting the basket down in front of me.

Only a few moments later, Thalwyn hands another dish to me, and also from the table to my left bowls are being passed in our direction. As soon as my plate is laden with food, I resume eating, but not without once more looking over to the Dwarves' table. Their gruff talk has increased notably in volume, now being quite dominant in the potpourri of voices that fills the room. I do not speak a single word of Dwarvish, so I have no clue as to what is being said. I only know that the sheer sound of that small folk's unmelodious language displeases me.

_It is almost hurtful to Elvish ears._

I cannot help but frown again before I finally take my eyes off the group of Dwarves and continue to look around. As my gaze strays to a group of Elven maidens sitting in the far corner of the Hall, I do not fail to notice them hastily looking down on their plates, busying themselves with picking at the food before them with their forks in a pathetic attempt to look occupied with eating. A moment later, one of the maidens whispers something to her neighbours, which causes all the three of them to start giggling sheepishly. My lips curve in a smile, and I have to suppress a chuckle as the Elven maiden sitting to the far right glances up from under her eyelashes – only to drop her gaze again at once, blushing crimson, when she finds me eyeing her, unable to fully hide my amusement at the maidens' antics.

_By the Valar, will I ever get used to this?_

Oft have I heard people calling me strikingly fair; oft have I seen maidens glance at me in undisguised admiration – but I have yet to grasp what exactly it is they see in me to be so extraordinarily attractive. Not that I would really care anyway. I am said to be one of the finest warriors in my fathers realm, and it is my skills in archery and swordplay rather than my looks that are of importance to me.

_Well, admittedly, to be considered good-looking and charming does have its advantages.  
At least it has saved me from serious trouble every now and then..._

Another smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I recall one of the incidents where I put my handsome looks and charm to good use. I was a young Elfling then, and one of Caranhil and my pranks was not received as good by my father as we had hoped.

_Which is quite an understatement. Actually, Father was **furious** when he found out that a whole barrel of his best wine had been 'spiced' with salt.  
And the fact that he had guests when the wine was served, did not exactly help either..._

But no matter how upset my father got, quickly conducting that his son must have something to do with the mess, it took me but a talk with our cook – a true soul of a She-elf, who could never resist my charm – to save Caranhil and me from punishment.

_I have never got to know what kind of a story she told Father, but it saved our necks, and for that, I will be grateful forever..._

When the colours of the memory begin to fade and my view finally gets focussed again, I realise that I am smiling right at one of the Elven maidens that were the cause of my musings. She seems to have got over her initial shyness, and is now flirting shamelessly with me; the look in her sparkling grey eyes speaks of admiration...and holds a promise that cannot be mistaken.

Although I must admit that the She-elf is truly beautiful and that I feel flattered to have sparked her interest, a pang of guilt rises within me.

_The reason of my stay at Imladris is far too serious to even think of flirting with any of the Rivendell maidens._

So with another – more or less apologetic – smile, I break eye contact with her and force myself to take up eating again as if nothing had happened.

Just then I pick up my name and become aware that Lord Elrond is talking not only to Thalwyn any longer, but that he must also have been addressing me with his last words. When I look over to him, our gazes meet for a brief moment, and the amused twinkle in his eyes tells me that my mental absence has not gone unnoticed by him.

"You will be in good hands, Thalwyn," the Elf Lord says as he lays a hand on the young woman's forearm and makes a move to rise from the table. "Now, if you will excuse me? Legolas..." Lord Elrond gives me a slight nod, which I answer with a similar gesture. He then leaves the table, closely followed by one of his sons; whether it is Elladan or Elrohir I would have to guess, though, since I have yet to learn how to tell the twins apart.

Lord Elrond and his son have just taken a few steps when Thalwyn turns toward me, a genuine smile lighting up her face. It is more than obvious that she enjoyed the conversation with our host.

"This place is wonderful. All the people here are so wonderful and kind." The young woman heaves a contented sigh, which makes me chuckle.

"Well, if you do already think this place wonderful, Thalwyn, then I am curious as to what you will say once I show you around the valley. For you have got but a glimpse of the beauty of Rivendell so far."

"And I can hardly wait to see more of it, Legolas. But I think I had better finish eating first." She lets out a gentle laugh. "Talking with Lord Elrond made me completely forget about my breakfast."

"Well, take your time, Thalwyn. We still have all day."

The young woman nods in approval before focussing her attention on the filled plate in front of her. I follow her example, and we both finish our breakfast in silence and without further distractions.

As soon as Thalwyn has cleared the last morsel from her plate, she sits back and heaves another sigh. "I think I could very well use a little walk now," she laughs, her right hand resting lightly on her belly.

"Well, shall we go, then?" I quickly take one last sip of water from my goblet before rising from my chair.

Thalwyn stands as well, and once more I offer my arm to her, which she accepts with a smile. "Thank you, Your Highness," she says half-jokingly, and I put a hand on top of hers as a silent reply.

Arwen as well as her brother have turned their heads to look up at Thalwyn and me. "Enjoy your look around," the daughter of Lord Elrond addresses neither of us in particular.

"We surely will," I answer on behalf of both of us with an inclination of my head. "Thank you, Lady Arwen."

I exchange another courteous nod with the raven-haired Elf sitting next to her – still wondering whether it is Elladan or Elrohir –, then I guide Thalwyn in the direction of the two-winged oaken door we entered through earlier.


	17. Thalwyn: A Nudge and a Ruffle

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

I'm painfully aware how long it's been since I posted the last chapter of my story, and I hope you will forgive me. I just can't seem to keep to a regular posting schedule at the moment with all the other things I've got to do. Which makes me all the more happy about the wonderful emails and reviews that I got over the past weeks (or months, rather). Thank you all for not giving up on me, and let me assure you that I don't intend to give up on this story – no worries! ;o) And many thanks to Fiery Temper for doing the beta on this chapter. :o)

But I think I'll spare you any further babblings and leave you alone with Legolas and Thalwyn now. It's Thalwyn's turn again to tell us her version of the story.

Enjoy!   


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**A Spark in the Dark**

17 Thalwyn: A Nudge and a Ruffle 

Time seems to fly by during breakfast. I am more relaxed than I would have expected as I talk to Lord Elrond, and soon I find myself chattering away, giving lively accounts ofsome of my most cherished childhood memories. The Elf Lord does not seem to mind, however. Quite the contrary – I get the impression that my host enjoys being submitted to my silly ramblings; his interspersed questions leave little doubt that he is listening with genuine interest.

All too soon Lord Elrond gently squeezes my hand when I have just finished telling another anecdote. "It is a pleasure listening to your stories, Thalwyn, yet I am afraid I must leave you now. There are important matters that I must see to."

"Of course, Your Highness," I reply courtly; without doubt a man – or Elf, rather – in his position has many duties and obligations.­ 

"We will surely find another opportunity to talk," the Elf Lord assures me. He then slightly raises his voice – most likely to catch the attention of the Elf sitting so silently beside me – as he goes on, "But first, enjoy the walk around Rivendell that Prince Legolas has offered to give you." After a brief pause, he pats my forearm. "You will be in good hands, Thalwyn. Now, if you will excuse me? Legolas..."

His hand leaves my arm, and I hear the faint sound of his chair scraping across the floor as Lord Elrond stands. No matter how much I strain my ears, however, I cannot make out a single of his footfalls as he retreats from the table.

_It really must be an Elvish thing – walking without so much as making any sound._

I turn in my seat to face Legolas...merely hoping that he is still there, for I have not heard a single word from him in quite a while. "This place is wonderful. All the people here are so wonderful and kind." Before I know it, a sigh has left my lips, but I could not care any less. And as was to be expected, my open display of admiration is being answered with a chuckle.

_Well, it is good to know that Legolas has **not** vanished._

As a reply to my last remark about Rivendell, the Elven Prince once more assures me that I have yet to grasp the full beauty of this place, and I feel my heart pound eagerly against the confines of its bone cage in anticipation. Nevertheless, we both agree to finish breakfast first; I have hardly eaten anything yet, too engrossed have I been in the conversation with my host.

When my appetite has finally been sated, I allow myself to relax against the backrest of my chair with a sigh, placing a hand on my belly. "I think I could very well use a little walk now." 

"Well, shall we go, then?" I hear Legolas rise from his chair and follow his example, only to find his outstretched arm waiting for me to take it.

"Thank you, Your Highness." My words are tinted with amusement as I find it impossible to resist calling the Elf by his official title, curling my fingers around his arm.

"Enjoy your look around," a voice pipes up that I easily recognise as that of Lord Elrond's daughter Arwen. She had not contributed much to the earlier conversation, but her father had briefly introduced me to her and her two brothers.

_Talking of Lord Elrond's children – where have his sons gone?  
Did they leave the Hall, together with their father? _  
_And what were their names again? One of them was called Elrohir, if I am not mistaken. And the other? __Ello... No. Ella...Elladan!_

Since I am distracted for a moment recalling the names of Lord Elrond's sons, it is Legolas who replies to Arwen's words, "We surely will. Thank you, Lady Arwen." And already we make our way across the Great Hall once more, past the same agitated chit-chat and laughter that had lined our way on our entrance.

Once we have left the Hall, Legolas and I turn right. After just a few steps he informs me of a couple of stairs lying ahead of us. As careful as before, the Elf leads me up close to the first step, making sure that I am ready before we start the descent. To tell from the soft breeze that caresses my skin when I take the first step down, the stairs lead out into the open. And indeed, a few steps later, I feel sunrays warming my face, thus confirming my assumption.

The ground at the bottom of the stairs is notably warmer than the crafted stone we have been walking on before; however, the morning sun has not quite managed to fully heat the trampled earth yet. The path we now follow is well worn, only the occasional blade of grass tickling against the sensitive skin of my bare feet and ankles. With every step we take, the sound of the raging waters that I had already listened to the night before swells more and more.

"We are at the bank of the river Loudwater now," Legolas finally points out, at the same time bringing us both to a halt, "or Bruinen, as we Elves call it in our tongue."

_Loudwater? Ah yes, the Loudwater runs down from the Misty Mountains._

I have never been this close to the river before, but at least I have a better idea now of where my flight has led me.

_My flight._

I know I should not dwell on this too much, but unbidden memories of the incident start dancing in my mind all over again – the swishing sound of flying arrows, Aldarida's fear-filled cry...

"Loudwater is indeed a suiting name for this stream, is it not?" Legolas laughs gently, his soft voice breaking the dark spell my memories had just begun to weave around me. As I nod in reply, even managing to give him a smile, he goes on, "We can walk up closer to the nearby waterfall later on if you will, but I suggest we pay the stables a visit first and see how our horses fare, shall we? I promised that we would after breakfast."

My smile broadens at the thought of finally getting the opportunity to convince myself of Liorin's well-being personally. "To the stables it is, then."

We resume our walk, following the path that seems to run alongside the murmuring and gurgling river, and soon I pick up the faint scent of horses.

"There we are," Legolas announces only moments later.

As soon as we set foot into the stables, the warmth induced by the animals that are accommodated here engulfs me. Apart from the rustling and grinding sounds of some horses munching on their morning ration of hay and the river still murmuring in the background it is comfortably silent in here. None of the stable hands seem to be around at the moment. Having done their morning work, which would of course include feeding the horses, I would assume that they must be off to have their breakfast now.

I wonder how large the building is; how many horses are accommodated here. But as I am just about to ask Legolas, a joyful whinny fills my ears, which I am sure makes me grin like a fool. That neigh I know all too well, for it belongs unmistakably to my mare.

"Liorin!" Already, I am making my way in the direction of her voice, no longer searching the guidance of Legolas' arm but walking freely; the constant flow of low, rumbling noises Liorin is now making helps me walk up to her.

When I finally get within my horse's reach, she welcomes me by gently nudging my shoulder with her nose. I am quite familiar with this gesture, therefore it does not startle me in the least. I rather expected it, actually.

"Hello, my girl." My hands reach up to feel their way along the sides of Liorin's head. They finally come to rest behind the mare's ears, and I give her neck a ruffle in the spot she likes so much.

I am rewarded with a happy snort and another soft nudge in my belly, which Legolas comments with a chuckle from somewhere behind me. "Apparently, she has missed you just as much as you her."

"Yes, you might be right." I give Liorin's neck one more ruffle and lean forward so that my forehead comes to touch hers. "So, did they take good care of you here?" My words are meant as a rhetorical question, of course, and my voice is the ghost of a whisper against the ridge of my mare's nose.

Naturally, I am more than surprised when Legolas replies on her behalf, "She should have no reason to complain." His voice is tinted with amusement.

I stand upright again, only my right hand still resting on my horse's neck, the other dropping to my side.

_He...he heard what I just said? But how could he?_

I quickly decide that it must be yet another Elvish thing; some sort of enhanced hearing. I must admit that I am gradually beginning to wonder what other surprises the Elf might have in store for me, should I ever get the opportunity to get to know him closer. Then again, the same might be true for any other Elf, for that matter. Apparently, the knowledge I gained from Aldarida's telling of stories is far more scant than I would have thought.

I feel rather than hear Legolas step up next to me. From the way Liorin's neck moves beneath my hand, I conclude that the mare greets him in much the same manner she welcomed me earlier.

"She is a very good-natured horse, your Liorin."

"Oh indeed, she is." I let my hand move down along her neck towards the mare's shoulder as I reply.

Just then, a neigh that can only be described as a protesting call sounds over from nearby.

"If that does not sound like someone is jealous." I cannot help but grin, highly amused. "Your horse, Legolas?"

"Aye," he laughs. "I think I had better walk over to him for a moment. Would you like to meet him as well, Thalwyn?"

I nod and give Liorin another pat on the neck before I let Legolas guide me to the source of the whinny. Our arrival is acknowledged with a contented snort.

"Thalwyn, meet Alagos," the Elf at my side briefly introduces his horse to me.

"Alagos? Now that is a beautiful name. Greetings, Alagos." I reach out my right hand, palm up. Apparently, Legolas' horse is just as sociable and friendly as mine, for soon a soft nose starts nuzzling my palm as if searching for invisible treats that might be hidden somewhere between my fingers. I let him have his way; only when Alagos begins to playfully nibble on one of my fingers, do I move my hand to the side of the horse's head and take up stroking the silky fur there.

"What colour is he?"

It takes Legolas a moment to reply, somewhat irritated, "Black. He is black."

_Why did my question take him by surprise – because he had forgotten for a moment that I could not see the colour for myself, or rather because he wonders why a blind girl should ask for colours in the first place?_

I smile as I let my hand run down the strong, shapely neck of Legolas' horse repeatedly. "I may never have learned what the different colours look like, but they do mean something to me. And I wanted to know if Alagos looked anything like my own horse."

What follows is a moment of silence before Legolas finally remarks, "That is one thing that I have been wondering – whether colours would mean anything to you."

"They do, Legolas. They do." My hand comes to rest at Alagos' well-muscled shoulder as I remember a silent question that had been forming in my mind the night before. "But I have been wondering something as well."

"And that is?" the Elf asks curiously when I do not continue at once.

"Whether there are any blind Elves."

"I think the answer to this would be no," Legolas replies somewhat carefully. "Since Elves do not suffer from sicknesses of any kind, there are no other ways an Elf could lose their sight than an injury of their eyes. And I would like to think that those could always be healed. Our healers are very skilled, and Elves recover fast from injuries."

"I see." And indeed I believe his words without a second thought, for I now remember that my sister told me about one of the legendary gift of the Elves – immortality.

_And if they are immortal, they must surely be less susceptible for diseases, if not immune to them._  
_But was Aldarida right? **Are** Elves immortal?_

I decide to seize the opportunity and ask. "Legolas, may I ask you something?" 

"Anything, Thalwyn." Once more, his voice is laced with curiosity.

"This may sound silly, but are Elves really immortal?"

"Our kin do not die of old age or illness, that much is true." Legolas pauses shortly before he goes on, "An Elf can be lethally wounded, though, or die of sorrow or a broken heart."

A question forms in my mind at the last part of his explanation, but the sad tone underlying  Legolas' words tells me not to pry. There is one more thing, however, that I need to know. "Excuse my being so blunt, Legolas," I start hesitantly, "but how old are you? What I saw when you let me touch your face would make me think that you are but a few years older than I am, but I get the feeling that I might be wrong with that assumption."

There is no trace of sadness left as Legolas confirms, "To say that I was a few years older would indeed be a bit of an understatement. I have seen many summers – hundreds more than you, actually."

"So...so you are several hundreds of years old?" I am surprised myself at how incredulous my voice sounds.

_I should have expected an answer like the one he gave me._  
_Immortal! He's **immortal**, Thalwyn!_

Legolas does not even try to hide his amusement and chuckles at my words. "Yes. In fact, I am almost three thousand years old."

"Three..." I find myself rendered mute as I try to digest the number he just told me.

Another soft chuckles reaches my ears, and then I feel Legolas' arm settle around my shoulders. "But let us talk no longer of this, Thalwyn. How about we continue our walk around the valley?"

I nod, still dumbfounded, and let Legolas guide me away from our horses and out into the open again.


	18. Legolas: Song and Sword

Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Finally...another chapter. I would've posted it earlier, but someone *eyes Eris with a frown* sent me to the Antarctica as punishment for my lack of updating. Just kidding, of course. ;o) But I'm a bit in a hurry. I'm going to go on a big vacation in about two hours... Which is the reason why this chapter hasn't been beta'd yet. I got it finished a couple of hours ago and just finished editing it. There simply is not time for any beta reading before I have to leave, and I wouldn't want to keep you guys waiting for another five weeks. I'll have the chapter beta'd when I'm back, and repost it then. Until then...I have to thank all of my wonderful readers for bearing with me. Love you guys! :o)

But now enjoy!   


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**A Spark in the Dark**

18 Legolas: Song and Sword 

I guide Thalwyn out in the open and along the path that leads down to the river before it curves in the direction of the stables. The sun shines bright, laughing down on us from a clear blue sky, and the young woman at my side tilts her face up to smile right back at her. The expression on her face changes into a frown, though, when I announce our arrival at the riverbank. I have not the faintest idea what might have caused the sudden change in mood, and it is needless to say that I do not welcome it.

Feigning that I had not noticed, I ask with a laugh, "Loudwater is indeed a suiting name for this stream, is it not?" To stress my point, I raise my voice a fraction more than would actually be necessary to make myself heard over the constant gurgle and rumble of the river Bruinen.

A futile attempt to raise Thalwyn's mood again, but it works. The lines of worry on the young woman's forehead soften again, even though her answering smile still looks a little strained. When I suggest walking on to visit our horses, the smile on her face becomes more genuine, and I feel relieved.

A couple of minutes later, we finally arrive at the stables. My eyes take in the most impressive and light-bathed building, marvelling at the splendour of the place even though I have been here before several times. For lack of massive walls, numerous columns of carved, ivory wood reach up high to support the roof; the single paddocks the horses are accommodated in are separated by equally ornate, wooden elements. A filigree construction that gives shelter, and yet the sun peeks in from various angles at all times of day. And the vastness of the building! There are several dozens of paddocks on either side, the stables thus offering room for about a hundred horses.

How to describe to Thalwyn the impression this place still makes on me, I do not know. I refrain to even try, for any verbal description could hardly do the majestic building justice. So I merely state that we have reached our destination.

We have barely entered the stables when a couple of horses interrupt their breakfast, take a step forward, and crane their necks to see who the newly arrived visitors are. As was to be expected, the chestnut face of Thalwyn's mare is among the heads peeking along the broad corridor – when I came here earlier this morning, I quickly figured that she must be one of the more curious steeds that like to know what is going on around them. And already, Thalwyn's mare has recognised her mistress and is calling out to her at the top of her lungs.

"Liorin!"

With a smile on my lips, I watch as Thalwyn lets go of my arm and shuffles over to her horse's paddock to greet her and be eagerly greeted in return. "Apparently, she has missed you just as much as you her."

"Yes, you might be right," the woman replies joyfully, all the while stroking Liorin's fur.

I keep standing back, watching silently, so as not to disturb the happy reunion. Nevertheless, when Thalwyn softly whispers to her horse whether she has been taken good care of, the good-natured jester in me cannot leave that rhetorical question unanswered. "She should have no reason to complain," I comment in the mare's stead, hoping that the mirth shows through in my voice.

The look of bewilderment on the young woman's face confirms that her last words were never meant for my ears; that she did not expect for me to overhear them.

_Apparently, she has yet to learn many things about Elves._

I now saunter over to Thalwyn and her horse, who honours me with a warm, welcoming nudge, and join Thalwyn in patting the mare's neck. We have barely exchanged a few words on the horse when my own steed calls for my attention with a high-pitched whinny that belies his majestic stature.

Thalwyn and I share a laugh at his display of jealousy and finally walk over to him; a decision that my fair mount comments with a snort of content.

I reach out to ruffle the lock of raven hair on his forehead. "Thalwyn, meet Alagos."

"Alagos? Now that is a beautiful name. Greetings, Alagos." Gingerly, Thalwyn offers her outstretched hand in a greeting, trusting fully in the good-naturedness of my horse. And just as carefully, the horse's nose takes up contact with the woman's hand, exploring the open palm with undisguised interest.

As Thalwyn's hand moves up to stroke my steed's neck, she asks, "What colour is he?"

I find myself being mildly surprised. I did simply not anticipate that kind of question from a blind person. At length, I reply, "Black. He is black."

Thalwyn must have read my mind, for she explains at once, "I may never have learned what the different colours look like, but they do mean something to me. And I wanted to know if Alagos looked anything like my own horse."

I let her remark sink in before I confirm that this is exactly what I have been wondering – whether colours would mean anything to her.

"They do, Legolas. They do." The knowing smile on the young woman's lips tells me that I have not been the first person to point out that question to her.

"But I have been wondering something as well," Thalwyn speaks up after a brief moment of silence.

When she does not elaborate, I ask, quite intrigued now myself, what it is that she would like to know.

"Whether there are any blind Elves."

Once more, it takes me a moment to reply. Only this time, it is merely because I never pondered the matter. Nor would I know any Elf to share Thalwyn's fate. Considering the natural healing powers of us Elves, and our resistance toward sicknesses, the answer to her question would surely have to be no.

I lay out my train of thoughts to her, and the young woman accepts my explanation. But I can sense the next question bubbling up inside of her already, even before it comes across her lips. "Legolas, may I ask you something?" 

Again, I encourage her to let me know what is on her mind.

A faint blush adorns Thalwyn's cheeks as she asks, "This may sound silly, but are Elves really immortal?"

_Oh, she has yet to learn much about us Elves indeed!_

"Our kin do not die of old age or illness, that much is true," I begin. But the second part of my explanation would not roll from my tongue that easily. "An Elf can be lethally wounded, though, or die of sorrow or a broken heart." I am well aware that my voice is coloured with emotion; I cannot help it. Too painful, too horrifying is the sheer thought that any of the Children of Ilúvatar might meet this terrible fate.

Thalwyn seems to sense my discomfort, for she does not inquire any further on the matter. And when she asks another question, it is not without hesitation. "Excuse my being so blunt, Legolas, but how old are you? What I saw when you let me touch your face would make me think that you are but a few years older than I am, but I get the feeling that I might be wrong with that assumption."

I laugh silently at her careful choice of words, all sadness forgotten for the moment. I decide to approach the matter with a somewhat vague answer. "To say that I was a few years older would indeed be a bit of an understatement. I have seen many summers – hundreds more than you, actually."

Thalwyn's voice all but fails her as she processes what I just said. "So...so you are several hundreds of years old?"

I more or less anticipated that she would be surprised, and yet a chuckle escapes me. "Yes. In fact, I am almost three thousand years old."

"Three..." Apparently, the surprise is truly overwhelming this time, for Thalwyn never even completes repeating the number.

_Which I have to admit, I find highly amusing._

However, I finally shake her out of her stupor – partly, at least – by laying an arm around her shoulders. "But let us talk no longer of this, Thalwyn. How about we continue our walk around the valley?"

At her wordless nod, I lead her from the stables, around the building, and onto the path that snakes up to one of the most beautiful spots in Imladris. Since Thalwyn still makes no move to speak, I decide to do the talking, telling her what kind of flowers and trees we are walking past, and finally I start singing an old Elvish song that comes to my mind.

The woman at my side has not shown much of a reaction to my comments since we left the stables, but now she seems to have shaken the bewilderment off her at last. She turns her head in my direction as I sing, and the expression on her face clearly shows that she enjoys listening. I only stop singing as we get closer to the waterfall and the swelling noise of the river becomes a worthy rival for my voice.

"That was wonderful, Legolas. Truly wonderful. Not only your singing, but also the sounds of the words themselves." Thalwyn heaves a sigh. She then adds with a laugh, "Not that I understood a single one of them!"

"I am pleased that you liked my song nonetheless."

"Oh yes, yes!" the young woman confirms, nodding eagerly. "You have such a beautiful, clear singing voice. I have never heard a man sing like that before." The healthy colour of her cheeks deepens. "Um...you are not a mere Man, of course, so what I meant was...was.... You know what I mean!" she finally ends, obviously frustrated at her own fishing for words.

"Aye, I do," I confirm in a soothing voice. "And I feel honoured that you think so highly of my singing. In fact, Elves in general have a liking for it and are known to excel at this kind of art."

"Which I can well imagine! Especially if you sing in that beautiful language. I take it that was some form of Elvish?" Thalwyn's pale blue eyes are shining with a gleam of excitement by now.

"You are perfectly right, Thalwyn – the song was written in Sindarin, one of the Elvish tongues. It tells the story of a young tree that strives to grow taller than all the other saplings in order to make proud the tree that it sprung from." Which I know is a very brief summary, but it holds the essence of the original words.

Thalwyn smiles, tilting her head to the side. "Do you happen to know more songs of that kind, Legolas?"

"Of course. Would you like to hear another?"

Before Thalwyn can reply, one of the twins appears in the clearing, right in front of us, and calls out, "Legolas, Thalwyn! Excuse my disturbing the two of you, but have you come across my brother?"

I shake my head in the negative. "I am afraid not."

The dark haired Elf heaves a frustrated sigh. "I was hoping to find him up here. I have been looking for him everywhere. Would you be so kind as to tell him to meet me on the practice field, should you happen across him?"

"Aye, of course," I gladly offer.

"Thank you, your help is much appreciated," Elrond's son replies with a broad smile, then he is gone as fast as he appeared before.

"He sounded quite excited, did he not?" Thalwyn asks, visibly amused. "But what was his name again? Elladan? I am afraid I am not that good with names."

I arch an eyebrow in wonder while Thalwyn continues, "His brother is called Elrohir. For some odd reason, I find that name easier to remember."

_So it was Elladan we just met?  
Well, maybe. Thalwyn, at least, seems to be perfectly sure of his identity.  
But he could as well be Elrohir, for all I know!_

"You never cease to amaze me, Thalwyn," I comment her question at length. "How did you know that he was Elladan? You have only just met Lord Elrond's children."

Now Thalwyn laughs openly. "What amazes _me_ is that you could _not_ tell which of his sons you were talking to."

I ponder her words for a second before I reply, "Well, but they _are_ difficult to tell apart, especially for one who has only met them a couple of times, as in my case. They are identical twins, after all."

"Twins?" The young woman lets out another warm laugh. "But I had no idea! They do not sound identical, you know?"

"Oh, really?" Whatever the difference may be that Thalwyn is talking about, I have failed to notice so far.

"Aye," she assures me. "You just need to listen closely." When the woman gives me a wink, still smirking, I know that no further explanation is to be expected from her. At least not right now.

"But tell me, Legolas, what did Elladan mean when he said practice field?" she inquires instead. "What kind of practice was he talking about?"

"Practice to hone your fighting skills, Thalwyn. Archery, swordplay..." I reply with a shrug.

"Swordplay?" Her eyes widen. "Do you mean to tell me that Elves are not only wonderful singers but skilled fighters as well?" Apparently, it is her turn again to be surprised.


End file.
